ARK: A tale of Broken men and Frozen Blades
by DaRumpyBurr
Summary: Even the strongest of us started from nothing. The story of Otto Weiss, a man who washes ashore an island full of creatures thought to be long extinct with nothing but his name. Follow him through hardships and betrayals, friendships and perils, love and trials. Based on the game ARK: Survival Evolved.
1. Stranded

_**A Tale of Broken men and Frozen Blades**_

 **By DaRumpyBurr**

* * *

Scorching beams of light blazed across his back, sending bright flares of pain lancing throughout his body. The sun was a glaring beacon of misery; dry and scalding, it made every aspect of his world a living nightmare. Gluttonous waves lapped at his ankles, while a fine coating of powdery white sand clung unpleasantly to his skin. Overhead, the distant cries of unfamiliar seabirds echoed over the vast beach.

The man was completely naked, save for a pair of simple undergarments that chafed roughly against the sparse bit of skin that it protected. He lay unmoving for a long time, pressed against the sandy shore until he could take the unrelenting glare of the sun no longer. With an encumbered grunt, the castaway propped himself up with one elbow. Almost instantly, he was assaulted by a splitting headache that drove a thousand flaming knives into his skull. Fiery rays of light assaulted his eyes, encompassing his vision in an unremitting white glare. The man collapsed back into the sand with a sharp intake of air, struggling to push back the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. Every heartbeat became a struggle, every breath a war. After a moment of waiting out the pain and catching his breath, the man pushed against the ground once again. A hammer glanced against his skull with every pulse of his rapid heartbeat, and he almost passed out from the insignificant exertion.

The sun was intensely bright and searing hot; it threatened to boil him alive. The waves were too loud and the cries of the seabirds too sharp. Black spots danced across his vision like insects. The man knelt in the blistering heat, panting to catch his breath. Just when he was ready to collapse and let the sun slowly boil him to death, some primal instinct kicked in and he rose. The man staggered drunkenly toward the line of trees farther down the beach. One step. Then another. His feet started moving on their own. Twice he nearly stumbled, but managed to catch himself in time. If he fell now, he would likely never get up again. The pounding of the clashing waves eventually began to dull.

The castaway was within steps of the shade when he could not go any farther. His legs had grown weak and heavy, his head clouded. It would take every bit of his willpower to stay upright just a moment longer. His legs gave out beneath him and the man stumbled. As the ground raced to meet his head, he had one final thought: _at least this isn't such a bad place to die._ And then his limp body crashed into the sandy floor.

* * *

The man woke to a warm, slimy and unpleasantly moist appendage probing his face. He lifted his head, his eyes flaring open in alarm and he immediately flinched away. Perched on his chest was an enormous stark white wolf. The beast bared its gleaming teeth in a silent growl, its fangs just skimming his neck. The man stayed frozen in place. After a small eternity where neither man nor beast moved, the white wolf abruptly leaped off his chest and bounded into the foliage.

The man fell back against the sand, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. Much to his relief, the splitting headache he had earlier was gone. After taking a moment to recover, he lifted his head to look at his surroundings and noticed that instead of the sandy beach where he had fallen, he was now under the shade of the trees that he had failed to reach. There was a suspicious indent that snaked along the sand starting from the spot where he assumed he had passed out and ending where he was now. The man had a few ideas as to who had dragged him under the shade but could not possibly fathom why. This mystery was still by far the least of his worries.

Before anything else, he would have to tend to his own needs. He groaned and sat up, looking himself over. A thin coat of sand stuck _everywhere._ He began to brush it off and cursed when his hand grazed against his shoulders. They were a tender pink verging on red, and excruciating pain flared up whenever he touched them. He could not see the back of his neck, but based on gentle probing that made him wince it was sunburnt even worse than his shoulders. There were blisters on his back and old, faded scars lining his arms. An inspection of his lower half revealed that his rough undergarments had chafed his skin raw. The man's wounds were all minor and they would heal eventually, but they would be a constant nuisance until they did.

The castaway felt sharp pain from his stomach as it rumbled. He had no idea when he had last eaten. The man stood up groggily and glanced around at his surroundings. He was sitting with his back to the beach. Closest to him and well away from the lapping tides, tall trees with thick trunks towered imposingly, shielding him from the sun. Grey and green moss clung to the bark while vines hung off thick branches. Where he was sitting, the sand had given way to dark green leaves that covered the floor. Interspersed amongst them were small bushes and skinny ferns that swayed in the wind. Upon closer inspection, he could see clusters of something small and yellow clinging to the shrubs.

The man approached with caution; this was where the wolf had disappeared. He paused when he was close enough to pluck one of the plump yellow berries from the fern. When he was satisfied that no great white beast was going to leap out of the brush to tear his throat out, he bent down to examine the berries. They were of a colour with the sun; bright and yellow, nearly as round too. They were smooth and soft, plump yet firm, with a fragrant scent that hinted at sweet, juicy insides. The man regarded the yellow berries skeptically. They were likely to be poisonous. It would be best, he decided, not to eat them just yet and return in case he could find nothing else.

The man stood and glanced down both lengths of beach. The two sides were nearly identical; no major landscapes or distinctive features set them apart. The man set off to the right, sticking to the shade to avoid the blistering sun. While taking his time along the vast stretch of beach, the castaway began appreciating the beauty of the mysterious land he had washed upon. There were strange trees with skinny white trunks and long green fronds all along the beach that he had never noticed before, shifting and swaying with the wind. A cool, pleasant breeze buffeted his face and tossed his hair. Sparkling blue waves gleamed as they gently lapped the shore. The sand was a pleasant, mellow white so fine that it shifted and cascaded with every footprint he left behind. Shadows danced over the vivid green grass, shifting and swaying as the wind tossed leafy branches overhead. From the jungle, he distantly heard strange bellows and low rumbling calls. Never in his life had he heard such queer noises.

Suddenly aware of every shadow in the forest, the man strayed a few feet farther from the trees. He was eyeing the jungle so intently that he almost tripped over the squawking fowl. Clucking indignantly at his feet was a huge plump bird that he thought to be a chicken at first. With a closer look however, the bird was considerably chubbier than any chicken had a right to be. Whereas a normal chicken would stand slightly taller than his calf, this bird came up to his thigh. It wobbled around on two unsteady talons, its ungainly head bobbing up and down. A pair of gawky wings hung limply at its sides, only flapping when it was startled by a leaf carried in the wind. Instead of having long and rigid tail feathers like most other birds, the beach chicken's ungainly rear-end finished in a cascade of soft white tufts. Its orange beak was smooth and round, curving to a sharp hooked point at the very tip. The bird was a dull pink colour, save for its tail, which was a faded white.

As the man observed the fat chicken, the bird turned so one beady eye regarded him curiously. After a few moments the chubby fowl ignored him completely and continued waddling down the beach in search of food. The man was reminded of his own hunger by a rumble from his stomach. Up ahead, a large flock of the fat birds were gathered, two dozen at least. They ranged in colour from green as bright as the jungle leaves to blue as cloudy as the sky above. None were exactly the same, though many possessed similar colourations.

As the man was debating whether they were edible or not, he noticed a pair of strange new creatures sticking to the shade on the outskirts of the jungle. They looked like two huge lizards. The beasts came up to his chest and balanced themselves on their hind legs. They had short, stubby little arms and quills that ran all the way down their backs and across long, thin tails. The bigger one had a scaly hide of dark grey-green while the smaller of the two was a light, mellow brown. The green beast had two big red crests on its head, and the smaller one had a similar pair but half the size and much more dull. Most noticeably however, were the two large frills that both lizards had on either side of their scaly heads. The man assumed that the two were mates, the larger one being the male, the smaller one female. Even as he watched, the male arched its head back and hissed, the frills fanning out. The female took up the call, hooting and replicating the pose.

Suddenly the male snapped its head forward with a snarl, jaw open and teeth gleaming. A blob of green liquid rocketed out of its mouth, straight at one particularly chubby chicken. The bird screeched when it was struck, flapping useless wings and staggering away from the danger. The rest of its flock scattered, clucking and squawking. Where the fowl was hit, feathers steamed and parted, revealing shiny red flesh underneath. The female lizard spat, striking the fat chicken on a plump leg and bringing the poor bird down.

The lizards were on it in an instant.

The bigger reptile leaped, clawing for the neck. The female was right behind, closing sharp teeth around its leg in a savage bite. With a fierce wrench of the lizard's head, the leg was ripped clean off, bloody tendons dangling from where it had been. The bird wailed in agony. The male finally ended its suffering by slashing a sharp claw across its soft neck, blood spilling over the already tainted beach. After the bird was dead, the two huge lizards began tearing at the corpse where it lay. The man shuddered at the gory sight but at the very least, now he knew the birds were edible.

The castaway edged down the beach, away from the fierce lizards and closer to where the flock had fled. He snatched a thin but sturdy stick off the ground, its end snapped to a sharp point. When he approached a bird it squawked and eyed him for a moment before returning to its previous activity of scratching for bugs in the dirt. The man took a moment to pet the bird on the head. It glanced up at him curiously as he plunged the stick straight through its neck. Blood sprayed across the beach. The white sand drank it up eagerly, turning a vivid red.

"Sorry friend," the man murmured as he lifted the spear. Its end was slick with blood.

The castaway hefted his branch high and started towards the shade, his trophy dangling limply by its neck. The deceased chicken's immense bulk dragged his spear down. The other birds gazed at him with dull, uncomprehending eyes and went back to pecking in the sand. By now the sun was nearly halfway in the sky. The two frilled lizards caught scent of the man's prize and turned to watch him, but made no move to steal his kill. If they were still hungry, there was slower prey to be found. The male hissed in warning when the castaway tried to enter the shade, so instead of risking a fight, he trudged away from the jungle.

The man needed wood for a fire. He was definitely not eating this bird raw. The trees here were spaced much farther apart than before, separated by a sea of greenish yellow grass. Ahead of him was a steep rocky rise, nearly twice his height with a scrawny patch of yellow grass adorning its top. There was a gentle slope that lead to the peak, opposite the side of the cliff bordering the jungle.

He climbed the gentle rise and looked around. Behind him was the beach. To his right the gentle hills rolled on, disturbed by the occasional tree. To his front was a small brook, bubbling from a hole in the ground, and behind that were more hills and trees. To his left was the jungle, mysterious, ever changing ... _and still too close for comfort_ , he thought as he heard some strange bellows echoing from its darkness.

The man hiked back to the base of the crag, jabbed his stick into the dirt and knelt next to the brook. The water was clear and clean, a tiny sip revealed. He cupped his hands and took a few swallows. It was cool and did not taste strange so he was uncomplaining. The man splashed some water over himself to rinse off the dust and grime that clung to his body. The water felt cool and soothing against his skin. After washing himself down, the survivor lurched back to his feet and went to gather wood for a fire.

He peeled dried bark from a tree and pulled up a bushel of dead grass for kindling. On top of these, he piled small twigs and brittle branches. From a long dead tree he snapped off thick branches to lay over the twigs and from the jungle he dragged a few old logs. At first, the man attempted to ignite the fire by a rubbing a branch against bark but after yielding no results, he threw his hands up in frustration and kicked a rock as hard as he could. Only as the stone was flying did he notice its rusty orange colour. He snatched the flint from the ground and struck it against a smooth rock from the beach. It took a few tries but when he was ready to give up, the rocks flared and a spark landed on the dried grass.

The man cupped his hands around the flame to protect it from the wind. The fire spread rapidly once it had gotten to a decent size. Flames leaped from the thatch to the twigs and then up the branches, transforming into a massive blaze. When most of the kindling had burned away, the survivor threw a log into the fire and the flames swelled. He laughed and threw his hands out in triumph.

After he was sure the fire was sustainable, the man wrestled the beach chicken off his spear and laid it on a flat rock. First he severed the head with a few deft strikes from a sharp rock and then began the arduous process of plucking every feather from its body. It was long, bloody work and the man was thankful for the shade of the cliff. The sun was beginning to descend when he was finished.

The survivor re-impaled the bird against his spear and jammed it into the ground, at an angle above the fire. He leaned back against a smooth boulder and sharpened a nearby branch using a sharp rock. The stick was strong and sturdy, it came up to his shoulder and would be good at stabbing or throwing if he ever needed it. Up until now his only weapon had been the snapped branch he had found on the beach. He was glad for a new weapon. As he watched the fire and sharpened the stick, he began to think.

 _What was this place? Why was he here? How did he get here?_ He didn't know the answer to any of those. _What was his name?_ That one he could almost answer; it danced at the very fringes of his memory, so familiar yet so strange. His life he remembered nothing of, or near as much that it made no matter. The man tried to conjure up his memories, but faces were blurry, conversations made no sense and places were dark, grey and distorted. And then his name came back to him in a flash: _Otto Weiss._

"Otto" he said aloud to no one in particular, testing the sound of his forgotten legacy. The name still felt strange on his tongue. _Otto. . ._

He said it again, "Otto Weiss"

He frowned. It was hardly anything, but at least he had clung to one part of his old life. _Otto_ , he kept repeating in his head, testing the sound of it. _Otto_. Was that really his name? Had he even remembered correctly? _Otto_. The name still felt strange but the more he repeated it, the less queer it became.

Otto glanced down at the roasting fowl to see a beautiful golden-brown skin, crisp and crackling. Grease dripped off the bird like sweat, sizzling and sputtering as the droplets were swallowed by the fire. Otto yanked the spit out of the dirt to let the bird cool. His stomach rumbled and growled, louder than anything in the jungle. After a few moments of temptation, he could not prevent himself from tearing into the bird. Otto ripped off a leg and cursed, tossing the meat from hand to hand until it cooled.

He bit into the crispy skin, grease dripping down his chin. The meat tasted heavenly. The skin was seared crackling and crispy, the flesh inside a tender pink. In no time at all, the only thing that remained of the chicken leg was a few bones tossed haphazardly to the edge of his camp. He pried a second leg from the bird, this one cooler than its predecessor. He attacked the morsel with the same ferocity as before, wolfing down the meat in savage bites. When he was finished, grease smeared his chin and slivers of meat clung to his teeth yet his stomach still growled ruefully, hungry for more.

He tested touching the body of the bird but snatched his hand back immediately, wincing at the pain. He sucked on his finger to draw out the heat. The rest of the bird was still too hot to eat, so instead Otto grabbed his makeshift spear and returned to the beach to spear another. His roasted meal was already massive, and more than enough to sate his hunger, but preparing a second for tomorrow would save the trip.

When he emerged on the beach, the sky was a dazzling pink hue. The two frilled lizards were gone, but now three corpses were sprawled on the beach whereas there had only been one before. The brutes liked chicken, Otto noted. He would keep his leftovers handy in case the beasts ever tried to molest his camp. There were still plenty of the fat birds waddling around though, and he speared one lightning quick. The others scattered in a haste, but Otto knew they would forget about this incident by tomorrow.

His fire was still flickering when he returned to the camp, though much smaller than before. Otto fed a handful of branches to the flames and drove his spear into the ground. The sun had vanished completely and everything beyond the fire was pitch black. If he had thought the jungle was unnerving during the day, it was _terrifying_ during the night. Where the shadows had only swayed with the wind ever so slightly before, now they danced and twirled like demons, black and terrifying. Every sputter of his fire caused the darkness to shift. From those deadly shadows something unnerved him. Otto could not say what it was, though he felt a cold presence. Something... something watching him.

Otto shuddered and made to turn away from the jungle but some movement caught his eye. There was _something_ moving slowly, ever so slowly towards him. It wasn't part of the shadows cast by his flames but some _monster_ , he realized with horror. Some monster coming straight for him.

* * *

 **Author's note:**

 **Thank you for taking the time to check out my work! If you have any comments, questions, concerns or criticism please feel free to leave a review. Every bit of feedback helps! Other than that, have a good day/night!**

 **\- DaRumpyBurr**


	2. Otto I

**As promised, another chapter. Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Otto I**

* * *

The bushes rustled ever so gently under the faint gleam of the moonlight, the silver leaves swaying in the dark. Otto tightened his grip on the spear and held it out against the darkness, against the _thing_. And then suddenly the bushes parted to make way for a great white wolf, ghostly pale under the night sky. The one from before, Otto realized. He froze as the beast swept its head across his little camp. It had spared him once, _was it too much to ask that it would do so again?_

By his measure, the wolf stood up to his chest. It was huge. It had fur as white and pure as new-fallen snow and eyes of shiny gold that meant it was no albino. By any indication, the wolf was male; thick of limb with a jaw like steel. The beast completely dwarfed what Otto's brain told him wolves _should_ look like. The huge white wolf turned its head to stare straight at him and growled, low and deep, keeping its eyes locked on him as it took another careful step towards the flames. Otto had a feeling he couldn't deny the wolf a place by the fire even if he tried, the results of which would no doubt yield his death.

Those eyes of molten gold darted from Otto to the two fat birds at his feet and back to him again. Otto had an idea, though it might get him killed all the same. His left hand reached down with exaggerated sluggishness, his right still tightly gripping the spear. He clutched the bigger of the birds by the neck and lifted it to his chest, level with the wolf. He shook it slightly and the golden eyes followed the meat. The wolf made another step in his direction, teeth bared and hackles raised. Before it could get any closer, Otto tossed the chicken as far as he could.

The bird landed on the dirt, sending up a small cloud of dust and tumbling to a stop by a tall rock. The wolf snapped at him once and then darted around, leaping after the dead fowl. It snapped the chicken up with a dozen huge bites, blood staining the muzzle red. When the wolf was done, it turned to stare at him with those golden eyes, quietly watching him but otherwise making no other move. Otto tossed the other bird to the side of the fire opposite him. The wolf padded over, a silent white shadow against the black night. It settled down next to the meat, taking smaller bites than before and watching him the whole while.

When the wolf stayed put for a long time, Otto reached for his own bird hanging from the spit. A cold sweat ran down his back despite the heat of the fire. Otto was not happy to have brushed with death again for the third time this day. The chicken was cool by now so he bit into it, the grease trickling down his chin. The wolf lifted its snout the meal and sniffed at him but otherwise remained still. They seemed to have reached a truce. The wolf wasn't going to kill him, at least not yet. Man and beast sat on opposite ends of the fire, eating birds both cooked and raw in silence. When the wolf was finished, it curled up and kept a respectful distance. Unfortunately it seemed intent on staying by the fire.

Otto sighed and began piling a lump of soft grass to lay on. The wolf glanced at him curiously. When Otto was finished, he flopped onto his green cot and peered back at the wolf. The two lay there, staring at each other until Otto's eyelids grew heavy and he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

When Otto awoke, the fire was burnt out and the wolf was gone. Luckily his throat had not been torn out in his sleep. He took that as a sign. Otto was still hungry though. The fat chickens last night had been meant for him, but anytime he traded a few birds for his life was a good day. The fire was a pile of smoldering coals, a few still flickering a faint red in the golden morning rays. He drank from the brook, taking deep gulps of the cool water. Afterward, he grabbed his spear and set out for the beach.

Not much had changed. The flock of fat chickens from yesterday were still strutting about the beach, but Otto noticed a handful of new creatures as well. Grazing leaves and patches of grass on the outskirts of the jungle was a _massive_ lizard that lumbered about on four legs thick as trees. As it slowly shambled around, each thump sent up clouds of dust and small tremors through the ground. The beast stood twice his height and had two rows of bony plates along its back, starting from its shoulders and running all the way down to a long, powerful tail. It had a small head, no bigger than his own and a beak that it used to forage for greens. Four pairs of long, sharp white spines gleamed dangerously on either side of the beast's tail as the powerful appendage swung back and forth. It snorted at Otto as he approached but otherwise ignored him, more interested in the ferns lining the beach.

Shuffling with their snouts to the ground were two huge round pigs. Both were as tall as Otto, and easily twice as wide. They had two short blunt tusks on either side of their heads, more useful for digging up roots than fighting. Both had dull grey hides dotted with small round spots. One of them pink as the evening sky, the other green as the jungle. The hogs kept their heads to the ground; snorting, grunting and pawing at the dirt. The huge pigs only lifted their heads occasionally to scan the beach with small, beady eyes. Neither spared him so much as a second glance. Otto hiked past the two round swines, more concerned about the ache coming from his stomach.

As he strolled by the leafy bushes, he noticed the yellow berries he had discovered yesterday. Otto decided it would do him good to see if they could be eaten. He had a feeling that a diet of strictly meat would not be good for him. Earlier today he had also seen that the bushes by his camp held clusters of red berries, not unlike the yellow ones in his hand now. They shared a shape and texture, though differed in color and location. Otto suspected that they were closely related.

He knelt next to a fat blue feathered bird and offered it one of the yellow berries. The bird waddled toward him at full speed and scooped the berry into its mouth. The chubby fowl squawked at him for more so Otto obligingly fed it the rest of the berries from his palm. When they were all gone, he stepped back into the shade to watch for results. The bird clucked in confusion and wobbled after him, pecking at his hand. When the blue chicken realized there were no berries left, it went back to scratching at the sand. Otto waited on a rock, fashioning himself a second spear while watching the bird out of the corner of his eye. When nothing happened for a long time he knew the berries were safe to eat.

Otto returned to the bushes and plucked a yellow berry for himself. He popped it in his mouth and was met by a sweet, juicy flavor. Raiding the bush of its treasures, Otto picked a few more berries and threw them in his mouth. By the time he was done, his chin was stained with sticky yellow juices from the sweet berries. Otto felt very satisfied that he had discovered a new food source. His hunger was sated for now, but he still had lunch and dinner to consider. And if the white wolf returned to his fire he would need to have meat handy lest _he_ become the meal. Otto speared three large chickens, though not the blue one he made sure. He was quite fond of that bird now. Otto was making his way back to camp when he noticed a commotion from down the beach.

The fat chickens were screeching and flapping, retreating from the jungle and heading for the massive lizard with the spiked back. The huge beast stamped, bellowed and snorted, swinging its tail menacingly. Otto quickly pinned the source of the distress. Staying in the shadows were the two frilled lizards from yesterday, snapping angrily at the birds they could not get to because of the giant spiked lizard. The frilled reptiles hissed in frustration but knew better than to risk getting hit by the spiky tail. Just then, Otto realized with alarm that there was a third frilled lizard in the bushes. He would never have noticed it except for the ring of orange frills he had mistaken for a flower. The orange lizard stayed perfectly still, watching the other two with cold reptilian eyes. It was smaller than its kin, at least a head shorter than the female.

The third lizard slid out of the bush so slowly Otto had blinked to make sure he wasn't seeing things. The orange frills fanned out, slow as Sunrise. The beast only started hissing softly a moment later as it stalked toward a pig. Otto watched, entranced by the strange creature. When the lizard was within biting distance, it released a dark green glob of spit straight at the hog's eyes. The pig reared back squealing and tossed its head back and forth, trying to shake the venom from its face.

And then the orange lizard struck, sharp claws digging into the thick hide. The pig wailed and leaped away, running down the beach as fast as its stubby legs would allow. The deep red gouges raked across its round flanks were bleeding profusely. The hog bellowed and squealed, blind and bleeding. The orange lizard kept pace, snapping and clawing, guiding it toward the flock. _No, not the flock_ Otto realized. The clever little hunter was guiding it toward the huge spiked lizard. The fat chickens screeched and scattered but the massive lizard snorted and stood its ground. The massive beast shifted its tail to strike the incoming creature. The small orange lizard hissed again, snapping to the right. The pig turned left, heading straight for the sharp, spiky tail. The huge lizard bellowed once again but the pig remained on course, flying straight as an arrow.

With a mighty _snap_ , the huge tail slammed right into the pig. The round mammal stumbled to the ground and rolled to a stop, blood spilling across the once clean beach. The giant spiked lizard snorted once again, red spikes swaying. The small orange frilled lizard chirped with delight and ran to the downed pig. It lay squealing on the ground blind and bleeding from a dozen cuts with four massive holes gouged deep in its side. The lizard bit swiftly, sharp teeth sinking into the thick neck. Otto watched the life draining out of the pig's eyes, so much like water draining into the ground. The orange lizard began to tear at the tender flesh, but before it could even eat so much as a morsel the other two frilled lizards charged with a fearsome hiss.

The pair had also watched the smaller hunter take down a pig over five times its own size while they hadn't been able to make a single kill. The duo snapped angrily, frills unfolding and jaws unhinging. The small orange lizard snapped back but no matter how smart it was, when it came down to brute strength it was no match for either of them, let alone both. The orange lizard gave one final defiant hiss to save its pride and then fled from the corpse. The pair began feasting on the orange lizard's kill. The small hunter hung its head low and trudged down the beach in defeat.

Otto felt bad for the creature, being bullied around by the larger two. It had used wits and clever thinking to win a hard-earned prize and the others had taken it just because they were bigger and stronger. This world truly was a harsh and cruel one. Otto pried a chicken off the stick and tossed it on the ground, a few steps in front of the frilled lizard. The beast immediately snapped its head up and locked eyes on the chicken. They darted to Otto and narrowed in suspicion then back to the bird. It took a cautious step forward, watching him the whole time. Otto stayed completely still as the frilled lizard looked him over. When it was satisfied, the beast reached down and grabbed the bird, quick as a snake. The lizard turned tail and darted away into the trees.

Otto could not spear any more of the birds. They were huddled beneath the giant spiky tail, still dripping blood. Otto was loath to risk getting struck by the massive appendage, so instead he headed back to the camp. He could get by on a chicken leg and there were always berries to be found in the bushes. Otto was just walking along the outskirts of the jungle when something caught his eye. He could see a white gleam, half hidden behind large green leaves. Otto hefted his chicken spear and pushed through the bush.

Laying in the dirt was a bone. _Not just any bone_ , he realized with horror. _A human bone_. The skeletal joint was part of a ribcage, some of the bones slashed by heavy claws. There were two bony arms on either side of the chest; one hand tightly gripped around a makeshift hatchet, the other clutching a worn leather book. And the jaw was wide open, the skull locked in an eternal scream. All the flesh had long since rotted away and where the eyes used to be were two pitch black voids. This person, whoever they were, had been dead for a long time. Otto examined the ancient treasures clutched in the skeleton's hands. The axe was no more than a sharp stone and brittle stick held together by a piece of crumbling twine. Otto had a feeling it would break on the first swing. The other bony hand clutched a dusty book bound in leather. Otto leaned closer and brushed the dust off the cover.

 _Dossier_ , it read. The skeleton wouldn't need the book so Otto tried to pry the _Dossier_ from its bony fingers. The skeleton had a surprisingly strong grip though, and in the end he had to smash the fingers off with the broken axe head. Before Otto left, he covered the body with a bunch of leaves and tossed some loose dirt over the pile. He stuck a broken branch into the mound above the skull.

Otto retreated from the jungle with haste. Whatever had been the cause of the skeleton might still be lurking, hungry for a meal. And if not that exact beast, there were always plenty of other monsters lurking in those shadows. Otto ran and only slowed down when the hill camp was within sight. He jammed both spears into the dirt and drank from the brook, taking long gulps. He picked a pile of red berries from a bush, settled back into the shade of the small cliff and started reading the book.

Otto opened the _Dossier_ and leafed through its contents. The first page held a half finished map of an island. The bottom, western and eastern side of the land mass were sketched with detail, mountains and forests clearly mapped. Toward the center and up toward the north though, the map began to fade. Only the barest trace of a mountain was illustrated in the top left corner and the center was completely blank. Whoever had made the map hadn't been able to finish it for whatever reason.

Otto began to flip through the pages, all of which contained a detailed illustration of a creature and names next to them. The pictures came accompanied by text; observations, opinions, and inferences about the creature by whoever had crafted the book. Otto turned through the _Dossier_ looking for creatures he recognized. He paused on a worn out page, looking at a dark grey bird that he mistook for the fat chickens from on the beach. He quickly noticed that it was more angular, had sharp claws, larger wings and was far larger than the stubby birds from the beach. If the text could be believed, it ranged from eight to twelve feet tall. Otto shuddered at the thought of this thing towering over him. The name next to it read _Terror Bird_. Otto certainly knew that this was one creature he never wanted to meet.

A few pages later, Otto paused on the picture of a huge wolf with fur like smoky grey fog. _Direwolf_. It towered over the man sketched next to it by at least a head. The notes described the beast as a dedicated pack hunter, fast, strong, agile and able jump surprising distances. Otto was sure that his mysterious friend, the huge white wolf, was a Direwolf. The book said that Direwolves hunted in packs, though the one Otto had seen was by itself. The white Direwolf also only came up to his chest whereas the man in the picture had only stood as tall as the _wolf's_ chest. The beast he was familiar with was not fully grown, and for some reason had no pack either.

Otto continued flipping until he stopped at a page labeled _Dodo_. This was definitely the bird from the beach; it was plump and round of beak with weak little wings and small talons. Otto already knew most of the information in the notes. The birds were slow and dumb, hunted by almost everything on the island that ate meat. The author of the journal noted that they mated constantly. Whoever had written the _Dossier_ was fairly certain that the birds reached full maturity within a week of hatching. Otto supposed that made sense. _How else could the species survive despite being the easiest prey on the island?_

Another page held a frilled lizard, like the ones from the beach. _Dilophosaurus_ the book called them. Otto tried to say the name, the word queer on his tongue. He gave up after a few tries, settled to simply call it a Dilo, and read through the notes on the beast. The Dilophosaurus was described to have a very shrill call and a decorative ridge of skin on its neck. The beast often spit venom to blind or injure prey before going in for the kill. The Dilo also tended to flee from any carnivores bigger or stronger than itself, but were quick to attack weaker prey. Most of what the _Dossier_ said matched what Otto already knew.

By now, the Sun was a tender pink. Otto grabbed some kindling and branches and began setting up the fire. He snapped his fire starting rocks against each other and sparks flew. This time he got the fire started with his first try. He wasn't very hungry after eating the berries while reading the book, so he broke off a Dodo leg and plucked it bare. It was much faster than cleaning the whole bird. He stuck the meat on the spit and went back to flipping through the book as the morsel cooked.

One wrinkled page held a picture of the massive spiked lizard with the bony plates along its back. _Stegosaurus_ it was named. It had sixteen paired rows of bony plates along its back. Along its tail were four pairs of long spikes that the book made a point of avoiding. The _Dossier_ also mentioned how the Stegosaurus came to the defense of others of its kind and sometimes traveled in herds. The huge beasts were usually strong enough to travel alone, as many predators from the beaches and plains were smaller than them.

The sky was an inky black by the time he found the last creature he wanted to read about. He was just looking at the giant pig, the _Phiomia_ , when he heard a bark and raised his head toward the sound. The white Direwolf gracefully stalked into the clearing, fur shining silver under the moonlight. The wolf looked at Otto expectantly so he tossed the beast a Dodo and it sat down, crunching on the fat bird. Otto left the rest of the second Dodo by the fire and got up to pick berries from one of the many jungle bushes bordering his camp. He stripped a handful from the darkness, hand probing the unknown. As he returned to the fire, the Direwolf sat up and began growling at him. He edged back nervously and the wolf snarled, rising to bite. Otto had left his spear by the fire, _curse my rash thinking_. The wolf leaped to its feet and charged at him.

Otto dropped to his left so fast that his head struck a stone. His skull throbbed and he tasted the metallic tang of blood in his mouth from where he had bitten his tongue. The berries flew from his palm and rolled all over the ground, fire flickering off the shiny surfaces. He scrambled on the dirt, grabbed a sharp rock and turned to face his assailant.

But the wolf wasn't turning to attack him. The huge beast was snarling at the bushes he had been picking berries from. Otto got back up curiously, but the great white Direwolf did not so much as glance back at him. The beast was barking fiercely at the darkness. And then _something_ screeched back. It was a blood-curdling cry; shrill and primal, lusting for blood. The wolf snarled at the bushes again and whatever was hiding in them snapped twice more before receding to the darkness. The huge wolf barked at the bushes for a long time, then finally stalked back to the Dodo. The great white beast picked up the dead bird and moved to the fire opposite the berry bush. The whole time it did not so much as spare a glance at Otto.

The large Direwolf went back to chewing on the half eaten bird casually, as if nothing had happened. Occasionally its fur would bristle and the beast would shift tensely, as if to leap. It never did though and luckily the thing from the bushes did not come back either. Otto returned to his rock, nervous and too unsettled to care about the berries strewn all over the floor. He was not going back to pick more. He grabbed the Dodo meat hanging over the fire and bit into the tender flesh. As Otto chewed, he grabbed his spears and book and moved as far from the bushes as he could without intruding on the wolf's space. The great beast shifted a bit and raised an eye to watch him but did not chase him off. Otto finished his Dodo leg and tossed it into the darkness. He clutched his spear tight with one hand and the _Dossier_ with the other. Eventually he settled back into a dreamless grey sleep.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **themusher11, Tall-Gothic-Guy, Jason565 thank you for the support, your comments are very appreciated.**

 **TheJaiganticBridge, thank you for the support and taking the time to point out my mistakes. Though Otto is pretty tall (around 6'2 or 6'3 in my head) the sizes of the Dodos and Dilophosaurus were very poorly judged on my part. I will be sure to put more research into my story and make sure the character doesn't try to eat half his own body weight in food again.**

 **NightWyvern91792, thanks for the support and yes, I did not include the specimen implant/inventory system intentionally. I wanted to make my story as realistic as possible.**

 **Thanks for taking the time to check out my first fanfiction and s** **orry for the dull chapter. The next one will have more action, I promise. And thanks to everyone who left a comment, they were very helpful and motivating.** **I will try my best to upload every Friday. Feel free to comment, ask question or criticize my story, review is always welcome. And i** **f you like what you saw, make sure to check out the other ARK: Survival Evolved fanfictions out there. Have a great rest of your day or night.**

 **-DaRumpyBurr**


	3. Otto II

**Another chapter, enjoy!**

 **Warning: blood/gore**

* * *

 **Otto II**

* * *

The morning had dawned clear and warm, with gentle gusts of wind that stirred the grass like a great green sea. Otto groggily blinked to life, shielding his eyes from the golden glare of the Sun. The Direwolf was gone again and there were berries littered haphazardly all over the ground. Otto was startled from his thoughts by a loud _squawk_.

The blue Dodo gently pecked at his hand and then waddled over to a cluster of berries, scooping the juicy treats from the ground with its large round beak. Otto smiled at the chubby bird and reached for the bushes to offer it a fresh handful. Suddenly everything that happened last night came back in a flash. Otto snatched his hand away with a wince and pressed his back to the cliff, heart pounding. When he was sure it was safe, Otto cautiously got back up and snatched a spear from the dirt. The Dodo would just have to make-do with whatever was on the ground. Otto offered a few squishy red berries to the chubby bird. The blue Dodo gobbled them up eagerly, scouring the camp clean of the scarlet treats. When it was done, the Dodo gave one last cheerful honk and waddled back down to the beach and its flock. Otto was watching it go when he noticed the present it had left behind. He had thought it to be a stone at first but it was lighter; a dull grey like morning mist flecked with darker round spots.

Otto picked the egg up carefully, the smooth treasure surprisingly heavy and barely able to fit in his hand. He got an idea and walked over to the fire, gently setting the egg on the floor. With a thick branch, he excavated a small hole in the dirt and brushed the coals from his old fire into the pit. Otto spotted a large flat rock that had the slightest curve inwards, like a bowl. He dragged it over, covering most of the pit, but leaving a bit open to the sky. Otto tossed a few dry branches down the hole and struck his fire-starting rocks together. They clashed in a shower of sparks, the bright flash being swallowed by the darkness and then roaring back to life a moment later. The coals blazed, casting brilliant golden shadows in the pit.

Otto cracked the huge egg over his makeshift stove, the whites and yolk spill out into the concave rock. He tossed the broken egg shell away and grabbed his spear, edging cautiously toward the bushes. He snatched a handful of berries swiftly and retreated back to the opposite side of his camp. _This is ridiculous_ , Otto scolded himself. _Nothing is in there. Get a hold on yourself._ Or at least he _thought_ nothing was in there. Just in case, he made sure to keep the stove between himself and the jungle.

Otto had to cover the hole for the fire to burn itself out and then wait a while for the stove to cool. When it was ready, he ate straight from the rock by scraping the egg off with a clean branch that he had washed in the brook. The yolk was a little runny, but sweet all the same. The bottom of the egg was crispy and fried into a crust. Otto finished the berries first, sweet juices staining the corners of his mouth. When he was done with the meal, he lifted the flat stone from the fire pit and hauled it into the brook. He scrubbed the black soot staining the bottom and the bits of egg stuck to the top. When it was clean, he left the stone to dry by the bank.

Afterwards Otto grabbed both spears and went down to the beach to go see if anything new had happened, leaving the _Dossier_ safely hidden at the camp. Sure enough, there was a huge herd of duck billed creatures with long crests, perhaps two score in all. They trampled around on two powerful legs, grazing on the bushes. They had thick tails and heavy flanks, with arms as big as his own. Every one of them had leathery skin and small webbed ridges running along their backs and down their tails. Many were shades of pink, green or grey. Except for the young, they were all taller than him by at least a few heads each. Many were shuffling along near the bushes, stripping the bushes bare or shoveling up roots. Even more were grazing on clumps of grass and a few even waded in the shallow waters, munching on slimy plants.

Whether he had seen them in the book for sure, Otto could not say. He could faintly recall a creature that looked like this but even if he had read about it, he remembered nothing about them. They seemed friendly enough though and Otto did not see any of them trying to eat the Dodos all over the beach, so he assumed they were plant eaters. The Duckbills snorted at him when he got closer, but otherwise continued grazing as before. Otto wandered around the herd for a bit. Many even let him rest a hand against their leathery flanks. After a while Otto left the group and made his way farther down the beach. He wanted to get a good idea of his surroundings in case he was stuck here for a long time. Otto already knew the stretch of beach that he had woken up on, though he was curious to know what the other coast held.

He wandered for a few hours at least, both spears in hand. When Otto could no longer see the small dots of the herd in the distance, he turned back. Despite his efforts, Otto had found next to nothing. He had kept a close eye on the jungle for more clues about any other humans who might have perished. His efforts did not yield so much as a trace of humanity. He did see a small troop of monkeys though, around half a dozen in all. They had nimble little hands that were constantly picking berries or fidgeting around. The monkeys had soft fur that ranged from brown to black and long tails that curled up when they were not being used to get around. The nimble beasts swung from tree to tree, watching Otto and throwing purple berries into their mouths. He would find them in the _Dossier_ when he had a spare moment tonight.

By the time the herd was in sight again, Otto spied a few sleek white birds winging in lazy circles above the ocean, screeching and cawing at each other. They would swoop into the sea as straight as arrows and burst out of the water clutching fish almost as big as themselves. Many would land on the beach to feast on their catch, feathers slick with water. A few took flight when he walked by but landed again when he was gone.

A bit later Otto had seen a pack of tiny lizards no bigger than his head. There were five or six of them, each had a few bright long feathers sprouting from their heads. They stood on two little legs, thin as sticks and had arms that were even smaller still. The tiny lizards eyed him carefully as he passed.

Just then Otto heard an earsplitting screech from hell itself. Not just any scream, he realized with horror. It was the blood-curdling shriek from the bushes last night. Otto hefted a spear and levelled it at the jungle, ready to stab anything that might jump out. After a tense moment, Otto foolishly noticed that the sound had been farther off. And then it came again, once, twice, three times. The screeches were followed by a loud bark and a few sharp snaps. _The white Direwolf,_ Otto knew at once. He could not help himself from dashing into the jungle.

Otto gripped both spears tightly, ready to stab anything that might lurch into his view. He kept to the sound of the struggle, heart pounding and breaths coming in quick bursts. The jungle was trying its hardest to hinder his journey; leaves slapped at his face, vines tried to tangle his spears and ferns cut his arms. After a small eternity of fighting the undergrowth, Otto finally burst into the clearing. There in the middle was the white Direwolf, as he had suspected. The poor creature was bleeding from a dozen cuts and still snarling, keeping three huge birds at bay. Otto recognized them from the _Dossier._ _Terror Birds_. The shortest of the three was still taller than him by at least two heads. The largest was titanic, easily twice the height of the Direwolf and towering over practically everything in this jungle. The alpha Terror Bird gave another hair raising shriek, shrill and primal. The other two echoed its cry, snapping and screeching at the cornered Direwolf.

These monsters were what the wolf had kept away from the fire last night. Now they were back for revenge. The white Direwolf was backed against a huge boulder, too tall for it to jump. The biggest bird approached from the center, ready to lunge. The other two closed in on either side, their long legs taking slow, deliberate steps. Whenever one got too close, the wolf would leap forward with a snarl and the bird would retreat a few steps. None of the beasts had noticed him yet. Otto could escape unnoticed and leave the wolf to its fate, but something compelled him to stay. He lifted the first spear to his shoulder and took aim at the closest bird's head. Otto sighed at his own stupidity as he threw the spear.

The projectile flew straight and true, though the bird ruined the shot by moving forward. The spear still took it in the neck, a foot of slick red wood protruding from the back. Warm blood sprayed all over the clearing from the dying bird as it crashed into the ground, long legs twitching. The other two snapped their heads toward Otto and shrieked, sharp yellow eyes shining for blood. The instant the Terror birds focused their glares on Otto, the Direwolf pounced. It landed on the biggest one, claws raking at its wings and jaws snapping at the long neck. The Terror bird shrieked, stumbled into a tree and the beasts went down together. The last bird hesitated a moment, eyeing Otto before turning to help its alpha. Otto knew he could not let the birds gang up on the wolf again, so he did the second most stupid thing that day and charged.

He thrust his last spear as hard as he could, all the strength he could muster behind the shaft. The long piece of wood tore deep into the Terror Bird's flank, earning another earsplitting screech. Otto tried to pry his weapon out and found he couldn't. The spear was stuck. He pulled harder only to have the shaft snap, jagged wood chips flying everywhere. The bird let loose a screech straight from hell and turned to snap at him. Otto managed to roll away from the vicious attack and grab a blunt rock from the ground. The world shrunk down to just him and his foe. As he was getting back up the bird charged again, beak raised high. Otto vaulted to the left and lashed out with his stone moments before the bird ran him down. He struck the broken spear as hard as could, driving the shaft in deeper. The bird reared back and screamed, then spun and kicked at him. The claws lashed across his bare chest, the talons raking deep red canyons and leaving rivers of blood. Otto staggered back, clutching at the angry red wound.

The bird charged again and this time Otto was too slow in his dodge. He raised his arm to catch the blow meant for his head. His arm immediately erupted in pain. Agony, sharp and crippling lanced through his body, consuming his world in a blazing fire. Otto screamed and clutched at the torn flesh, the rock dropping from a stiff hand. He could see the faint white glimmer of a _bone!_ Otto fell to the ground, blood dripping down his arm and staining it a crimson red. His head swam in pain, bright and excruciating. His heartbeat boomed, loud as a drum, the rest of the world was nothing but a dull whisper. Black spots mingled with the red, dancing across his vision like a hundred insects. Otto heard a faint screech worlds away. He managed to lift his head for an instant and then fell onto his side, a shallow pool of blood around his arm.

Otto looked at the slanted world, his blood draining away by the second. The Terror Bird stalked toward him with slow and deliberate steps, eyeing him like a cornered meal. Otto trembled on the bloody grass, fighting to remain conscious. The Terror Bird locked eyes on his blood, the piercing yellow jewels shining at the prospect of a fresh kill. The monster knew it had him.

Otto was too weak to flee, let alone get back up and fight. He stared at the bird as it approached, eyes glassy and unfocused. His pain was so great that death would be a peaceful reprieve, Otto told himself. When the Terror Bird was within moments of pouncing, something white and no more than a blur slammed into it. Otto had completely forgotten about the Direwolf during the chaotic struggle. The great white beast rammed the monster hard, wolf and bird going down together. They tumbled in a flash of white fur and grey feathers, trading snaps and bites as they rolled. The Terror Bird struggled to get off the ground, long legs awkward and clumsy. Before it could, the great white Direwolf pounced on the bird's throat, jaws closing around the soft and tender flesh. The Terror Bird's shriek was cut off as the wolf wrenched back its head, taking half the throat with it in a fine spray of red.

The beast raised its head, jaws wet with blood. Those golden eyes peered at him intently and Otto felt a sense of unease come over him. He managed to turn his head enough to see the bloody corpse of the alpha Terror Bird, throat reduced to a shredded red pulp. Huge bugs the size of his feet were already tearing at the carcass. Otto glanced back to the wolf, muzzle dripping red. He suddenly felt afraid, even more so than when he had charged at the Terror Birds. Otto froze as the Direwolf stalked towards him, a silent white shadow of death. The beast stopped in front of him, raised its snout ... and licked the blood off his arm. Otto did not trust himself to move, staying perfectly still while the rough tongue lapped away the sticky blood. When the wolf was done, it curled up and began licking its own wounds. Otto released the breath he didn't even know he was holding.

The rush of adrenaline from the fight wore off abruptly and his pain careened back like a landslide, more vicious than ever. Otto gasped and clutched at his torn arm, the pain like a searing hot knife tearing through his flesh. He grit his teeth and clutched the rough fabric of his undergarments, his hand leaving bloody smears against the cloth. With a sharp wrench, Otto tore off a strip of fabric from the leg of his smallclothes. He somehow managed to wrap the shred of cloth around his arm and tie it off with a crisp tug.

Otto clenched his teeth, breaths coming in quick bursts. The pain was so severe he wanted to hack his own limb off for a brief respite. The deep gouges on his chest felt like nothing more than a light _scrape_ compared to his arm. Otto somehow got up and managed to stagger a few steps before crashing into a tree. He clung to the rough trunk for dear life, steadying his ragged breaths and trying not to collapse all the while. The white Direwolf noticed his struggle and silently stalked up next to him. Otto was in too much pain to care if the wolf attacked him. It might even be a mercy for the beast to kill him now. But instead, the Direwolf lowered its head and fell in right next to him. Otto leaned against the huge beast, grateful for the support.

Together they limped back to the camp. The journey was a living hell for Otto. Even though the huge Direwolf took most of his weight, every step sent fresh waves of pain through his broken body. Otto had to stop and catch his breath every few minutes, all the while trying not to black out from the pain. When at last they reached the burnt out fire by the cliff, Otto collapsed into the small brook by his camp. The water was freezing cold from the shade of the cliff, but it felt cool and soothing against his burning arm. His bandage was soaked all the way through with blood so Otto ripped it off and threw it on the muddy bank. The clear water quickly turned a murky crimson. Otto wanted nothing more than to just drift off into sleep, leaving the pain behind. _No_ , he resolved, _I might bleed to death If I don't staunch this blood now_. Every muscle in his body protested from the exertion, but somehow he managed to drag himself out of the water.

Otto limped through the undergrowth bordering his camp, stumbling over a root and nearly going down. He managed to break his fall on a tree and noticed the soft, spongy green moss that clung to the bark. Otto gathered a large handful and wrapped it around his arm a few times. The spongy moss immediately began to absorb the blood. Otto took a sturdy length of vine and bound his wound tight, tying it close with a swift tug. He repeated the process for his chest to the best of his ability.

Otto looped a vine loosely around his shoulder and gathered a few more handfuls of moss to bring back to the camp. Earlier, Otto had noticed a few dreadful cuts along the Direwolf's side while they limped home. They would surely fester and become infected if he left them unattended. Otto pushed back through the undergrowth to find the great white beast lapping water from the brook, clear again where it had once been crimson red. Sticky red tangles of fur punctuated the once soft and clean pelt, no doubt most of it his. Otto knelt next to the huge wolf cautiously. The Direwolf turned its head to nuzzle him. Otto breathed a sigh of relief and stroked the soft white fur. He soothed the wolf with a few whispers and it relaxed under his grip.

Otto gently guided the Direwolf into the water and surprisingly the beast complied. Otto gently washed the sticky tangles of blood out of the fur, the water turning red once more. When he was done, the Direwolf jumped onto the muddy bank and shook its fur, shiny droplets scattering everywhere. Otto waded out after the beast and began to plaster its wounds with clumps of spongy moss. The Direwolf tensed when his hand brushed a cut. Otto wrapped it quickly and moved onto the next gash. When he was finished, the Direwolf looked absolutely ridiculous, a ragged patchwork of shaggy white fur and spongy green moss. The beast turned and pawed at a clump with a piteous whine but otherwise left the makeshift bandages be.

Otto found that he was getting tired fast. Perhaps it was because of his rapid blood loss, the hectic fight or a combination of the two. Otto stumbled toward the soft pile of grass that he called a bed, his legs unsteady beneath him. His head felt clouded, his senses scrambled and every one of his limbs as heavy as a boulder. For that brief moment, even the pain seemed to dull. Otto just barely managed to make it to his sleeping pile before he dropped with a limp thud. His eyes closed and everything turned black.

* * *

The sky was a mellow orange colour when he woke. To his comfort, Otto found that the white Direwolf had curled up next to him while he slept, keeping a solemn watch for intruders. He stifled a yawn and groaned, sitting up. The wolf noticed the sudden flurry of movement and padded over, nuzzling its head softly against his chest. Otto scratched it behind the ears, earning a satisfied whine. His arm ached with a dull roar of agony, feeling unpleasantly wet in the cool shade. Otto glanced down and quickly remembered what happened before as he glimpsed the soggy dressing wrapped around his arm. The moss had soaked red while he slept, a good four or five hours Otto judged by the position of the Sun. He pushed off the ground with a heavy grunt and shambled over to the jungle, swapping the ruined moss for a fresh clump. Hopefully he wouldn't have to worry about anything creeping in the bushes for a long time, now that the Terror Birds were dead.

Otto's stomach rumbled loud enough to wake everything in the jungle. After the chaotic day, he wanted nothing more than to just curl up by the fire with a leg of roast Dodo in his hand. Both the spears he had taken with him this morning were still back in the jungle clearing with the dead Terror Birds. Otto was not eager to go back. Fortunately, he had the great foresight to make a few extra spears ahead of time in case he ever found himself without a weapon. Otto shuffled to the corner, removed a spear and set off toward the beach at a slow limp.

The wolf noticed him leaving and got up to follow, patiently slowing down to match his pace even though it could have sprinted well ahead. The great beast stalked at his side like a white shadow, growling menacingly at any wildlife that came too close. Otto glanced at the huge Direwolf while they walked. It had clearly started trusting him ever since he had rushed to its aid back in the jungle. Otto sensed that he had earned the wolf's respect. Ever since the fight the Direwolf had never left his side. If the beast was going to follow him around all the time, Otto supposed he should give it a name. He spent most of the walk pondering in silence.

Now that Otto could see the wolf up close, in daylight and without pain dulling his senses, he could confirm his suspicions that it was a male. The Direwolf was still not yet fully grown if its size was any indication. Otto thought carefully on a noble name for his new companion. The wolf was brave and loyal, yet a silent and ferocious killer when it needed to be. Most distinguishably was its clean white coat, like a field of fresh snow. _Yes, snow._ _Fresh snow. Winter snow_ , he thought. _Winter_. The perfect name for the beast. The wolf looked up at him and barked. Otto hadn't realized he had said the name aloud.

"Winter," he said again. The wolf panted happily and barked. "You like that name?" The Direwolf barked assent once more. "Winter it is then," Otto said with a smile.

The sky was a soft pink when they emerged on the golden beach. The Duckbill herd had trampled the sand flat and stripped most of the undergrowth bare. They were farther down the shore than before, ruthlessly attacking a sea of greens. One looked up and saw their approach. It gave an alarmed bellow and soon the entire herd caught a whiff of Winter's scent. They took off with loud honks and snorts, sending up a massive cloud of dust and nearly trampling a couple Dodos in the process. Winter ignored the commotion, choosing to stay with Otto rather than give chase to the beasts. The Dodo flock had scattered like leaves in the wind under the stampede. Most of the chubby birds were still dazed from the charge. Otto approached one and It looked up at him with dull, uncomprehending eyes. He quickly speared it through the neck and pried his weapon free, picking the dead bird up by its feet.

Winter trotted back to him, muzzle dripping red and a chubby Dodo hanging limply from between his teeth. The pale Direwolf had already killed and eaten a bird, its corpse still strewn across the sand. Winter was bringing this one back. Otto ruffled the soft white fur and the Direwolf gave an affectionate whine. Together they set off back to the camp.

By the time they returned, the Sun threw long shadows over the world and the sky was a vibrant purple so dark it was almost black. Winter bounded to the corner and leisurely curled up to eat his kill. In a few sure strikes with his trusty stones, Otto had the fire blazing. He settled down before the flames and started plucking his Dodo bird. The moon was just creeping over the horizon when the large fowl was bare. Otto impaled the chubby bird on a spit and began roasting it over the fire. He watched the fire burn, the scarlet tongues of flame more beautiful than anything else on the island.

When his meal was done cooking, Otto yanked the spit from the ground and reclined on a smooth rock. He ate when the meat was cool, the golden bird disappearing from between his hands until there was nothing left but shiny white bones. Otto curled up on his pile of grass and yawned, completely exhausted by the trials of the hectic day. Winter stalked over silently and snuggled up next to him, both of them full and stuffed to the brim. Otto nestled against the welcome warmth of the shaggy white fur and together they drifted off to sleep under the soft glow of the silver moon.

When Otto woke the next morning, he was happy to find the wolf still there.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Tall-Gothic-Guy, thank you for the continued feed back. In short, Otto did not know about them before he washed up. You learn more about this later on.**

 **TheJaiganticBridge, thank you for the continued feed back and support. The size chart is very helpful and thank you for the offer. If you are still interested you can PM me the details.**

 **NightWyvern91792, thank you for the continued support and sorry about the muddle-up.**

 **Gentoxic, thank you for the review. Your comment and support is**

 **Thanks for taking the time to check out my first fanfiction and to all the people who left reviews, they were very appreciated.** **I will try my best to upload every Friday. Feel free to comment, ask question or criticize my story, review is always welcome. And i** **f you like what you saw, make sure to check out the other ARK: Survival Evolved fanfictions out there. Have a great rest of your day or night.**

 **-DaRumpyBurr**


	4. Otto III

**Another chapter, enjoy!**

 **Warning: blood/gore**

* * *

 **Otto III**

* * *

Otto whistled, the thin and shrill bark of air carried far by the flat yellow sea. A patch of waist-high grass to his left shifted ever so slightly with a low rumble, the merest whisper of a threat. The Phiomia must have heard it, for the beast raised its head in alarm with a startled squeal. The giant pig started to flee but by then it was already too late. Winter pounced out of the brush with a ferocious snarl. The Phiomia squealed and ran . . . right into Otto's trap. He leapt out of the grass and drove the spear right between the pig's eyes. Otto twisted out of the way as it crashed into the ground, the long blades of grass embracing it with golden arms. The Phiomia thrashed and kicked, staining the field red as it desperately squirmed in the grassy tangle. Winter was little more than a white blur as he darted in. The huge Direwolf silenced the squealing pig with one swift wrench of his head.

"Good job Winter," Otto smiled as he absentmindedly stroked the soft white fur. The Direwolf wagged his tail with a happy bark.

Otto glanced back to the kill and unsheathed his dagger. It was made of Parasaur bone, about as long as his hand and surprisingly sharp. Otto had spent the better part of a night sharpening the weapon from a Duckbill thigh bone. He slashed away at the sticky red grass that tangled the corpse, moving quickly so the scent would not attract other predators. The hill plains were home to some of the most dangerous creatures, but the best game as well. The sooner they were gone, the better. Otto had just slashed through the last tangle when his Direwolf gave a stout bark.

Otto glanced up to see Winter growling at a patch of grass, tail pointed stiffly at the swaying fronds. Otto tightened his grip on the blade and stalked over next to Winter, the soft leather soles of his boots muffling his every step. Otto observed the brush carefully, eyes studying every little thing that moved. During his time on the island, Otto had learned to notice things. Just one tiny missed detail could mean your death. His eyes quickly locked onto something; a ring of orange flowers, beautiful as a glowing fire or a setting Sun. It stood out simply for the reason that it was perfectly, absolutely still. Otto quickly relaxed, loosening his grip on the dagger and gracing the brush with a relieved smile.

"Come out, I know it's you," He called. Winter glanced at him curiously and the bushes stayed unmoving. "Still shy," Otto said with a sigh.

He went back to the Phiomia and hacked away at a shoulder. The thick hide took a great deal of effort to saw through. Otto cut away a slab of meat just a little smaller than a Dodo, his hide breeches stained a dull pink by the time he was finished. He carried the bloody flesh back to the grass. Winter had still not moved, hackles raised and crouched as if to pounce on the bush. Neither had the orange ring, Otto noticed happily. He tossed the meat at the bush. It landed and rolled to a stop right in front of the grass, a small cloud of dust rising from the impact. The orange blur darted forward, quick as a snake, grabbed the offering and retreated into the bushes, all in the blink of an eye.

Winter barked in alarm and Otto stared at the bloody stain in surprise, the ground bare where there had been meat just an instant before. It had been just enough time to catch a glimpse of the beast; a small female Dilo with an abnormally bright orange frill. Otto had noticed the sneaky hunter stalking his kills for a few days now. It would always just stay hidden near the outskirts, watching his every movement with careful eyes. Otto always left a portion behind for the orange Dilo if there was any meat to spare. He pitied the beast, small and alone. It had no mate, no family and was shunned by the other Dilos.

Otto shook his head and went back to work. Worry about the kill now, the Dilo later. It was only a matter of time before something else would drop by for an unpleasant visit. Otto planted a foot on the corpse and pried his spear loose with a spray of blood. He sheathed his dagger and transferred the spear to his left hand, awkwardly holding the weapon in a loose grip. Ever since the Terror Bird fight his arm had never felt normal. The scrapes on his chest were now just scars and Winter was almost as good as new. Otto knelt and took one of the stumpy feet with his right hand, his good arm, dragging the heavy burden behind him. Winter trotted over to help, taking ahold of another leg in his mouth. Together they dragged the huge beast back to the camp.

Otto's time on the island had made him lean and strong yet, even so, he was red-faced and breathing hard by the time they dumped the Phiomia in the shade of the cliff. He splashed his face and chest with the cool water from the brook by his camp. Otto gingerly peeled off the moss wrapped around his arm and checked on the healing wound. A jagged dried crust of blood ran between his arm from wrist to elbow. It was healing, albeit slowly. Otto wrapped his wound up again with a fresh patch of moss and tied it closed with sturdy vines. No sooner did he finish than Winter splashed into the brook, spraying him with icy water.

"Hey!" Otto protested as the white Direwolf gracefully leapt out and shook himself dry. The water splattered all over him again, soaking his fresh moss dressings and his hide breeches. "I just changed those!" Otto shouted, laughing as he tackled the wolf.

They rolled into the brook, Winter snapping playfully at his face while Otto splashed the Direwolf with freezing cold water. He climbed out, drenching wet. "Now we're even," he smirked.

Winter barked in agreement and shook himself dry again. Otto sighed. At least I'm already soaked, he thought. With a smile, he set to skinning their kill. Otto worked beneath the glaring hot midday Sun so his clothes would dry faster. He slid his bone dagger out and pressed it into the giant pig, the blade digging into the tough hide. Otto was dry by the time he was finished, a heap of Phiomia hide loosely piled at his feet. He sliced a few choice portions from the flanks and then let Winter have the rest. Otto placed the meat on a flat stone under the shade, rinsed his dagger and left the hide to soak in the brook.

The drying rack was a rickety, flimsy thing; a long stick held over two Y-shaped branches that came up to about his waist. The two poles were crooked and the stick hanging between them looked prone to snap at any moment. A scaly Duckbill hide was already draped on the rack, bleached a dull grey from the Sun. Otto ran his hand along the leathery hide, feeling the scaly contours. Otto found that Parasaur hide made for great clothing; tough, durable and surprisingly waterproof. He had already used some of the hide for shoes and as straps for his blade. In contrast, Phiomia hide was much softer and more comfortable. Otto had used one for his breeches and new undergarments. His old pair were bloodstained and torn, now just spare cloth for wounds and no more.

Otto pulled the Parasaur hide off the rack and replaced it with the soaked Phiomia skin. He left it tanning in the midday Sun and threw the already prepared hide onto a smooth rock to his left. With his dagger, Otto cut out two large round holes for where his arms would go. He repeated the process for the edges but on a much smaller scale; worrying away a line of holes, each no bigger than his smallest fingernail. Otto folded the leather in half and lined the holes up. Using a sturdy length of plant fibres tightly twined together, he joined the two sides down the seam. When he was done, Otto tried the leather vest on.

It was a bit loose around the waist but otherwise fit fine. The leather still held a grey colour from the skin of the duck-billed Parasaur it had come from. Otto tried waving his arms, leaning forward and back, and twisting around. The vest bent with his movements but did not tear or rip. Otto took it off with a smile and placed the vest face-down on the rock. He then took two extra straps of leather and joined them to the back of his vest; one near the bottom and the other by the top. This would let him carry a spear on his back, freeing up a hand. Otto would have worn the weapon at his waist, but every one of his spears was too long. Keeping it strapped to his back was the only convenient way to hold it.

Otto knelt by the fire pit and grabbed the two rocks; one a rusty orange colour and jagged to the touch, the other a pale grey, round and smooth. He struck them together with a mighty clash and sparks landed on the coals. They quickly took fire and the flames spread, leaping from the sooty rocks to the dry sticks and twigs. Scarlet tongues of fire engulfed the dry logs, bark and wood crackling from the heat. The flames were licking the roof of the stove before long, fiery tongues turning the stone a sooty black. While the stove was heating up, Otto sliced one of the Phiomia steaks into small chunks with his bone dagger. He tossed the small red cubes onto the flat stone when it was sweltering to the touch. Otto let the meat sizzle and crackle, the fats slowly melting to cover the entire stove. The succulent juices were held in by a slight incline near the edge of the stone, almost like a pan.

Otto gathered a handful of the tiny onions and golden potatoes neatly stacked on a nearby rock. He gently rinsed them in the brook and then cut them into smaller chunks with his dagger. Otto tossed the slices onto the rock, the onions and potatoes sizzling in the thin coat of Phiomia grease. He had just found the vegetables a few days ago, growing in a valley deep in the forest. Otto had only stumbled upon the hidden garden by chance while hunting. The wild plant patches had been littered haphazardly around a great pond in the center of the valley where huge fish, some as large as himself, had drifted in lazy circles.

Growing by the lake was a rich harvest of wild plants that Otto had somehow recognized despite the strange blankness that engulfed every one of his memories. Pearly white onions, crunchy orange carrots, potatoes that fit in his palm, crisp green heads of lettuce and cauliflower, scallions, leeks, turnips, asparagus, beets and celery. Further out and close to the cliffs had been yet even more plants; shiny purple eggplants, juicy tomatoes, firm cucumbers, fiery red peppers, crunchy beans and even a few stalks of corn. How so many plants had grown together, and in the same season too, Otto had no clue. Then again, almost nothing on this island made sense. The hidden vale was open to the outside by three rocky canyons. What had intrigued him at first was why so many plant eaters avoided the place altogether, but Otto soon found out why.

Corpses had been strewn around the lake in various states of decay, the ghastly trophies causing a rancid stench that he could smell from afar. Huge bugs the size of his foot had been buzzing around the rotten carcasses, nibbling at sickly green flesh. Otto had given the decaying corpses a wide berth, more interested in the wild plants growing by the lake. He had been pulling up potatoes by their stems when Winter had started growling, low and deep. Otto had turned in time to see an absolutely enormous green scorpion scuttle out of the darkness. Just by its body alone, the monster had come up to his chest. With its tail completely extended the beast had towered over Otto by a head, the hooked barb gleaming dangerously over his face. The monster also had two huge pincers and eight hairy legs, each one as thick as his arms. Otto had hefted his spear while Winter had barked and crouched, ready to pounce. After a moment of careful deliberation, the monster had turned and stalked off, retreating to its lair rather than fight him and the Direwolf.

Once the scorpion had fled from the first encounter it never troubled him again. Otto found that it was called Pulmonoscorpius according to the Dossier. He had only visited the valley twice after that; once to gather more vegetables and the other time to set traps in the pond. Otto had tried to bring back as many of the wild plants as he could, but he could only carry as much as his arms could hold. Otto glanced back up from his thoughts as a rich scent filled the air. The meat was brown and succulent, the golden juices glistening in the setting sun. The onions were translucent and grilled to perfection, the potatoes tender to the touch. Otto spooned half the meal into a seashell that he had found and cleaned, letting his dinner cool down and slavering from the mouthwatering smell the whole while. Otto was just about to bite into the savoury meal when Winter stood up, hackles raised. He turned and growled at the jungle, his tail raised like a bright white flag.

Otto trusted Winter's judgement better than his own so he carefully put his plate down, vaulted off the floor and unholstered his spear from the straps on his back. Suddenly, the great white Direwolf bounded into the bushes snarling. There were a few vicious snaps followed by a pained screech. Otto shouldered through the fronds in time to see Winter pinning a small orange frilled Dilophosaurus to the floor. The reptile started to hiss and thrash, only to earn a few sharp barks from the white Direwolf. The Dilo stayed unmoving after the sudden outburst, rooted in place by fear. The wolf looked back at Otto.

"Let go, Winter," He urged. The Direwolf got off reluctantly and stalked back to his side, glaring at the smaller beast with a silent snarl.

The orange Dilophosaurus got up cautiously. It barely came up to Otto's waist, much smaller than Winter and every other Dilo he had seen. The small beast hissed softly and began to back into the bushes, cold black eyes never leaving the Direwolf. The Dilo had never followed him after a kill before, and it had certainly never gotten this close to his camp either. Something had made the beast especially bold today.

"Still hungry?" Otto gestured for Winter to follow and pushed back through the bushes before the Dilo could chirp a response.

The white Direwolf paused for a moment to growl at the smaller beast before following him back into the camp. With his bone dagger, Otto carved another generous chunk from the Phiomia corpse. He pressed through the undergrowth again to find that the orange Dilo had not moved. Otto gently planted the morsel by his feet and slowly backed off. He had just settled down by the fire with Winter when the small reptile joined them, tightly clutching its prize. The great white Direwolf bounded up with a snarl and the Dilo backed off a few steps.

"Winter it's alright, let the poor creature stay," Otto said. The Direwolf reluctantly sank back down, though his eyes never left the newcomer.

The orange frilled lizard approached again, more slowly this time. It dropped the meat a respectful distance away and curled up, taking small nips from the tender flesh. Winter got up and moved protectively between him and the small creature, growling whenever it shifted toward them. Now that things had finally calmed down a bit, Otto went back to his half-forgotten meal. The seashell plate was still resting on the dirt where he had left it. Otto was grateful to find that his dinner was still warm. The potatoes were smooth and creamy, the meat was tender and savoury. The fried onions added a sweet and sharp flavour to the whole meal. When he ate the last cube of meat from the tip of his dagger, Otto went back to the stove and scooped the rest into the shell, savoring every last bite.

The Dilo stayed by the warm and welcoming fire even when it was finished eating. Otto offered it another slab of meat but the gift went untouched. Before he curled up for sleep, Otto took a heavy branch and pushed the flat stone off the fire pit. He threaded the Phiomia steaks from earlier through a long stick and hung it over the fire to smoke while he slept. When Otto was finished, he lay back down next to Winter, nestling against the warmth of the soft pale fur. The Direwolf curled up glared at the Dilo with a half open eye. With his belly full, a warm fire and Winter next to him, Otto slowly drifted off to sleep.

* * *

The Dilo was still there and already awake when Otto blinked to life, squinting in the bright morning rays. Winter was restlessly pacing around the Phiomia remains, growling whenever the Dilo got too close. Luckily the two had not killed each other while he slept, so that was good. Otto yawned and stretched, preparing for his morning routine. He checked the small alcove in the corner of his camp and sure enough, a gleaming egg the size of his fist was there. The blue Dodo Otto had befriended on the beach came by every day to eat the berries he left piled in the corner. In return, it always left an egg for him to break his fast.

Otto got to work on the meal. He cut three long strips of meat from the Phiomia corpse. It would likely spoil sometime tomorrow but there was enough to last him and his companions the rest of the day. Otto took the stick that held the smoked Phiomia meat and pulled it out of the ground, staking it back down near the cliff. He pulled the flat stone back over the pit and got the smoldering coals blazing once more. Otto laid the tender strips of meat over the stove when it was searing hot. They sizzled and crackled, the fats melting from the heat and the meat frying in the golden juice. Otto cracked the egg and spilled the insides next to the rasher of pork, the yolk like a golden island in a sea of white. He left the meal to cook over the stone, a sharp hiss coming from the frying grease.

Otto glanced over to where the Dilo was watching him, those black voids locked on the frying meat. Winter sat by the Phiomia corpse gnawing on a round leg and guarding the meat against the smaller beast. Otto walked over to cut a chunk from the giant pig and tossed the morsel to where the orange Dilophosaurus lay. It scurried over and began tearing into the meat as if it would never get a chance to eat again. Otto gingerly stepped around the ravenous beast and gathered a handful of bright red berries from the jungle. He rinsed them in the brook and set them on a leaf. By now his meal was well cooked. He slid the crispy bacon and the round white egg into his seashell plate. Not wanting to let the precious golden juice go to waste, Otto cut up a few potatoes and tossed them in the pan. They would taste delicious when he fried them in the leftover bacon grease.

The orange Dilo had finished the meat and was now looking at Otto with pleading eyes. He tossed the beast another chunk of raw flesh and it gratefully set to devouring the morsel. Winter was still worrying away at a Phiomia leg in the corner, muzzle stained red. With his companions settled, Otto dug into his own plate. The egg yolk was still a little runny, the golden juice sweet on his tongue. The white was cooked all the way through and savoury to the finish. The fried potatoes were crisp and pleasant; the insides were sweet and crunchy, the skin was crispy and seared into a golden brown crust from the grease. And the bacon itself was the best part. Every other flavour melted away as he chewed on the sweet, crispy treasure. The bacon strips were crunched away one by one until Otto's plate was pitifully barren. He ate the succulent red berries as a sweet afterthought to the course, scarlet juices staining his chin.

When Otto was full, he got a start on the day's work. First, he cleaned up the growing mess that cluttered his camp. He rinsed the stove top and his seashell plate in the brook, leaving them to dry on the bank. Otto sorted his meagre possessions into a tidy row; a crude axe he had made earlier, a few wooden spears, his rocks for starting fires, and of course the Dossier. He dug a shallow hole a bit aways from the camp and threw some of the smaller bones and other waste into it, covering the hole back up with a thin layer of dirt. Otto cleaned the ashes from the the fire pit and went out to split logs with the axe; a sharp rock wrapped to a sturdy stick with strong vines.

Otto snapped thick branches off the trees and split logs with his axe. He peeled bark and dry thatch from the trees for kindling, though he did not need so much as when he had started. By now there was always charcoal in his fire pit; quick to ignite and able to hold a steady flame. Otto returned to his camp with the bounty. After he was done stacking logs and piling kindling, Otto whistled and Winter bounded to his side. The orange Dilo got up curiously, but only followed when he and the Direwolf were much farther ahead.

Otto was met by the repulsive stench of rotting flesh the instant he set foot in the valley. There were corpses strewn in various states of decay everywhere. Otto spotted the massive scorpion feasting at a huge round carcass, but it was quick to scuttle away. He knelt by the pond, pinching his nose all the while to repel the horrid stench. Otto checked his traps; narrow channels of water blocked off on all sides by heavy stones except for a small opening near the front. Three in all, though only two held fish. He had baited the traps with tender chunks of Dodo. The fish would swim in to eat but not back out, for the stones on either side made the channel too narrow to turn. Otto unholstered his weapon and speared the two large fish, each one as big as his leg. He swung the spear over his shoulder, the heavy wood pressing against his leather vest.

Otto pried a bushel of spring onions from the soft, muddy ground. Winter followed his example and took a bite of some carrot stems, dragging the orange vegetables out of the dirt with a soft plop. The small Dilo paused when they passed it on the way back out, then it scampered to the edge and pried a head of cabbage from the ground, holding the leafy green in its scaly little hands.

Otto and his procession returned to the camp and dumped their new goods near the fire. Otto had just hung the fish to smoke when Winter lifted his head and howled. "What is it, Winter?" Otto asked alarmed. The great white Direwolf barked and started loping toward the beach. Otto had no choice but to follow.

He sprinted after Winter as swiftly as his legs would permit. The Dilophosaurus followed a moment later. Even at his fastest, Otto could not hope to match the speed of the great white Direwolf. He ran past blurry trees, leaped over rocks and crashed through bushes. Finally, Winter pulled to a stop at the top of a small crest and began to bark. Otto slid over, trying to catch his breath from the exertion. The white Direwolf glanced back at him and barked, tail pointing to the hills below. Otto looked down and saw a man being cornered by the two Dilos from the beach. He had no time to think, he could only act.

"Hang on! Help is coming!" Otto shouted.

He whistled, sharp and loud. Winter immediately charged at the bigger of the two; a dark green Dilophosaurus with two blood-red crests above its head and a bright yellow frill. It was smaller than the Direwolf by a little bit, maybe standing up to Winter's shoulder. The Dilo hissed and unfurled its frills, jaw extending to spit. Winter twisted out of the way, snarled and leaped, landing on the vicious reptile. The two went down together in a tumble of dust and sand, scales and fur.

Otto slid his spear from the strap on his back and charged in a wordless war cry. The other man had tangled the smaller brown Dilophosaurus in some sort of net bound together by heavy rocks. Otto thrust at the ensnared creature, but it squirmed away and the spear only grazed its frill. It hissed in rage and spat at him, the green liquid splattering all over his shoulder. Otto screamed in agony, stumbled forward and tripped over a rock, his spear spinning out of his reach. He landed right below the beast, a mouth full of sharp teeth poised above his head. The Dilo bit down at him, trying to tear at his throat. Otto rolled away at the last possible moment and the beast only snapped down on a mouthful of dust.

He grabbed his knife, drawing the blade with a sharp scrape. The Dilo came at him again but Otto twisted away and slashed at its neck. The beast managed to lean back, just out of his reach. And then the other Dilo slammed into it. Otto only saw an orange blur, no more than a flash of colour. The brown reptile reared back, hissing in surprise. No sooner did it recover than the orange Dilo closed in again, snapping at the larger beasts neck. While the two lizards grappled, Otto was able to get back up. He closed in behind the brown female, his blade raised high. It must have sensed him, for the Dilo turned. It wasn't fast enough. Otto opened its throat in one swift motion, a wide red smile against the rough brown scales.

The beast collapsed on the ground, blood gushing into the dirt. Otto breathed a sigh of relief, picking his spear back off the ground. The orange Dilo glanced at the fallen corpse and chirped in delight. Otto smiled at the victory and then slapped at his shoulder, the skin itchy and red. He grimaced in pain but there was nothing he could do about the acid but wait it out.

Winter padded back to him, muzzle dripping red. Otto rested a hand on the wolf's head and looked back at the man whom they had saved. He was broad of shoulder and taller than Otto by around half a hand, naked except for the same simple undergarments Otto had washed ashore with. The man had warm hazel eyes, dark skin and short black hair. He was bulky, long of limb and well muscled. A three-headed length of twine hung from his hand, each arm ending in a heavy rock. He recognized it as the same contraption that had tangled the brown Dilophosaurus. Otto did not know if the other man would understand him if he spoke; he was absolutely sure that he had never seen anyone that looked like this man from before he washed up.

His impressions were quickly disproved when the other man spoke with a perfect accent. "Well met. An honour, to be sure," he said. "To whom do I owe my life?"

"Otto Weiss," He replied. "The honour is mine. And yourself, friend?"

"Joseph," the dark skinned man said. "Thank you, kind sir. You saved my life."

"It was what anyone in my position would have done," Otto assured. "Do you have a home that you might return to?"

"I fear that the stars are my roof and the dirt is my floor," Joseph answered with a sigh.

"You are welcome to share my food and fire, Joseph. It would be an honour to host you. Come, it is just right this way." Otto started toward his camp, Winter loping ahead and the Dilo following closely behind.

"I am grateful, friend," Joseph said again as they walked.

"As am I. You have no idea how wonderful it is to have another soul to talk to," Otto confessed. "I feared that I would go mad."

As they walked, Otto noticed Joseph giving Winter a wide berth. The Direwolf's muzzle was still red and splotches of blood stained his fur.

"Don't worry. Winter likes you," Otto assured him.

Joseph had only nodded and continued on, more or less the same. Otto also saw him shooting glares at the orange Dilo. Well, that couldn't be helped. Otto had found him being attacked by the very same creatures. He couldn't blame Joseph for holding a grudge against the beasts. He'll get used to them. I did.

Otto saw the hill up ahead. "Welcome to my home," Otto announced as they rounded the cliff.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **I'm really sorry about this, but I will only be able to update every two weeks instead of one in the coming month. Final exams are coming up and they are worth 20% of my grade. I will be spending too much time studying to be able to keep up the once a week updates on my story. This is only temporary however, and once the finals are over I will go back to my regular schedule. The next two chapters will be posted at two week intervals. Once again, I am sorry for the delay and hope to be writing once a week again.**

 **Anyways, thanks to the people who left reviews.**

 **Tall-Gothic-Guy, thank you for the kind praise. It was very motivating to know that my writing is appreciated. Also, sorry for ruining your request :( Otto has another human to talk to now. (yay, I think?)**

 **TheJaiganticBridge, thank you for the continued support and helpful review.**

 **NightWyvern91792, thank you for the continued support and I appreciate the motivational praise.**

 **Also taking name suggestions for the orange Dilophosaurus. Please remember Otto's character, he is not from modern times so no modern names. Ex: no Harambes, Fams, Memelords ect...**

 **Thanks for taking the time to check out my first fanfiction, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Special thanks to TheJaiganticBridge for helping with the story by researching some of the creatures. If you like the concept of ARK, check out Exploring the Notes, another ARK fanfiction by TheJaiganticBridge. Feel free to comment, ask questions or criticize my story, review is always welcome. And i** **f you like what you saw, make sure to check out the other ARK: Survival Evolved fanfictions out there. Have a great rest of your day or night.**

 **-DaRumpyBurr**


	5. Joseph I

**Just a reminder, Otto's last name is Weiss. I hope this helped clear up some confusion**

* * *

 **Joseph I**

* * *

The man, Otto, had taken him back to his camp. He is a good man, Joseph had decided, kind and brave. Weiss stood a bit shorter than Joseph himself, slim where he was broad, though well muscled all the same. Easy to smile with a kind face and blonde hair so dark that it was almost brown. His skin was bronze where Joseph's was dark and he was armored in hide clothing. Otto had stormy grey eyes that reminded Joseph of the dark clouds that came after a heavy rain. From the very start, Joseph knew he could trust the man, but the beasts that he controlled were a completely different story. Joseph made sure to give the white demon wolf loping at his side a wide berth.

Otto had noticed the way he was glaring at the beast during the walk. "Don't worry. Winter likes you," he had assured.

So the monster had a name. Joseph simply nodded and continued on as normal. In truth though, the massive wolf was not half so bad as the other one. The smaller monster was one of the many devils that roamed this evil land; scaly, clawed, overly vicious and absolutely terrifying. It was just over half the size of the wolf but it had cold, piercing eyes, black voids that seemed to bore into his very soul. The scaly beast stood at his waist, the wolf around his chest. Well, they might be monsters but they seemed to listen to Otto. And besides, they had helped save his life nonetheless.

"Welcome to my home," Weiss announced as they rounded a small cliff.

Otto's camp was small, but tidy and organized, closely hugging a small cliff. There was a shallow brook and a few boulder scattered about in the shade of the hill. The massive wolf immediately bounded to a corner and lay down, gnawing on a large bone. The smaller beast curled up more slowly and deliberately, back to the cliff so no one could sneak up behind it. Weiss smiled at Joseph and gestured to his camp.

"Come share my food and fire. Please, make yourself at home."

"I find myself indebted to you once more, my friend," Joseph answered, returning the man with a smile of his own. "You are too kind, truly."

Otto suddenly turned sad. "The island is cruel and hard. We must survive together or perish alone. It's nothing really. Come, come. Have a seat." He waved at a smooth rock and Joseph obliged.

He looked around as Weiss set to work preparing a midday meal. In the very centre of the camp was a makeshift stove, the fire underneath already blazing merrily. A flat stone sat overtop a shallow hole, open to the air through a small gap. Otto had erected a tanning rack off to the side, a hairy dark hide already hanging off the frame. By the shade of the cliff was a half eaten carcass, the remains of a giant pig, if the size and shape were any indication. Two seashells were drying by the fire and there was a stack of vegetables in one corner. Otto was slicing a chunk of meat from the corpse by the shade.

"Otto," Joseph began, "Is there anything I could do to help? It is the least I could do to repay the kindness you have shown me."

Weiss paused for a moment before picking up an axe from the corner of his camp. "You could help by splitting logs for the fire," he said, offering Joseph the axe handle-first. "Take Winter with you. These woods are full of danger."

"The wolf?" Joseph asked reproachfully.

"Direwolf," Otto corrected. "Not yet fully grown either."

At the mention of his name, the huge white Direwolf padded over to Joseph's side and glanced up at him expectantly. He froze, watching the beast uncertainly. The wolf looked him over for a moment then bounded to the trees. Joseph followed with the axe a moment later.

The jungle was much like the others he had seen from his short time on the island; hot, damp and dark. Joseph was suddenly glad for the large white Direwolf padding at his side. Every shift in the foliage made him flinch, and every rustle of the bushes sent his hair standing on-end. The wolf will keep the monsters away, Joseph told himself. Or at least he hoped. The leaves swayed and the trees echoed. Strange cries, hoots, chirps and bellows came from seemingly everywhere. The jungle itself was alive. Joseph found a relatively dry fallen tree, long dead by the looks of it. He brought the axe down again and again, the heavy rock smashing through bark and splitting wood. When he was done, Joseph stood the logs up and split them into halves. The tree had not been extraordinarily large and made for a modest bundle of firewood. Joseph gathered it up in his arms and made his way back to the camp.

Otto grinned up from his spot by the cookfire when he returned, and gestured for him to take a seat. "Just in time, my friend," he said, watching the fire under the stove. Joseph piled the logs in a neat stack and Otto threw one into the flames. When the fire was blazing, he dropped a slab of meat onto the stovetop and Joseph could not help but drool from the smell. How long has it been since I last had a proper meal? Never, he realized. Every single day in this accursed land he had either been too busy avoiding the monsters or fleeing from danger. Joseph had known no other food than the berries and fruits that grew along the beaches.

But Otto had meat, vegetables, and clothes! For the past three days Joseph had been running around naked, but for the simple undergarments he had washed ashore with. Now that he was in the company of another human, the very thought of it shamed him.

"Otto, would you mind if I asked you a question?" Joseph inquired.

The other man did not hesitate in his answer, "Of course not, my friend."

"How long have you been here?"

Weiss frowned for a moment, working out some mental tally. "Just under a fortnight. Three-and-ten days, if I recall correctly."

Joseph was impressed. "And by yourself this whole time?"

"Just the first three days. I've had Winter ever since," Weiss answered, scratching the huge white wolf behind the ears.

"And your demon lizard?" Joseph asked, shooting the beast a venomous glare.

Otto looked at him curiously then chuckled and followed his gaze to the frilled monster. "Ah. Yes, the Dilo. She's been following me around since yesterday."

"Dilo?" Joseph was confused. He was sure that he had never heard of such a creature before.

"Dilopho-something actually. I haven't been able to get the name quite right," Otto said by way of explanation. He produced a leather-bound book from a corner of the rocky outcrop and handed it to him. Joseph took it silently and held the book out for examination. It was worn and faded, bound in a scaly brown leather. The cover read Dossier. Joseph opened the book and leafed through the wrinkled old sheets. On the very front was a map of some island. Is this where we are now? It definitely was true that this land was bordered by a salt sea. No way off save Every page held a creature drawn in amazing detail, the vibrant sketches bringing the very book alive. Joseph flipped through and saw some creatures that he recognized, though there were many more that he didn't. Near the front he saw a fat beach chicken, coloured in blue, and a duck-bill grazing on some grass. The Dossier called them Dodos and Parasaurs respectively, some of the plant eaters on the island, he learned. A few pages further on was a roaring bull lizard, a Carno, and Joseph even saw one of the hairy mountains, a Mammoth.

"You made this?" He asked in disbelief.

"Found it," Otto answered. The meat was crisp and brown. He tossed in a handful of sliced carrots and potatoes. "In the jungle, not too far away. A dead man's treasure."

Joseph nodded. He could not remember much of anything from before he washed up, but he was certain that he had never seen any of these creatures before. "The ramblings of a madman? How is it that I have never before seen these beasts?"

Otto shook his head. "I thought the same at first. Now I am not so sure. Just look at the detail and the passion that these creatures are described with. Only a sane person could do as much."

The meal was cooked. Weiss scooped half of it into one of the seashells lying on the ground and handed it to him.

"My thanks, friend." Joseph took the steaming bowl and blew on the food to cool it down. The meat was tender and juicy, somewhat reminiscent of pork. The potatoes and carrots fried in grease tasted delicious. To eat like a king!

Otto spoke up from his meal. "How long ago did you wash up?"

Joseph finished chewing on a chunk of meat. "Three days, and as many nights."

"Did you see any other humans?" Otto was clearly desperate to know the answer. Who wouldn't if they had been trapped on this nightmarish island for nearly a fortnight?

"Nothing but skeletons," Joseph answered to the disappointment of his new friend. "And yourself?"

"Not so much as a hair except for the skeleton in the jungle," Weiss replied with a shake of his head. Then came a pause. "Do you think we could be the only living people on this island?"

"There are others. Or at least there were. I am sure of it."

"I wish I could share your confidence, Joseph." With a sigh, Otto took his seashell bowl and rinsed it in the brook, setting it on the bank. Joseph followed his lead and did the same.

"I did not want to give you false hopes but I saw signs," Joseph admitted. "The corpses on the beach. They had been killed just a few days past. There were still stringy chunks of meat clinging to the bone." Otto looked at him with a mixture of hope and fear.

"Do you think at least some made it off the beach?"

"I guess we'll just have to find out," Joseph shrugged.

Otto sighed. "Well, that's enough hoping for one day. Would you be so kind as to lend your help again?"

"Of course," Joseph answered.

Otto called for Winter, and the white Direwolf immediately bounded to his side. The orange Dilo lifted its head, but otherwise stayed put. "This way then." Weiss handed Joseph the axe, unholstered the spear from his back and led the way.

They went back into the jungle, though not so far in as Joseph had gone before. Otto paused by a long and sturdy branch, then picked it up and held it out for Joseph to see. "Gather anything that would make for a good spear or stake."

Joseph nodded and set out deeper into the woods, though he made sure to stay within sight of the others. He gathered the strongest sticks from the ground and used the axe to cut branches down from the trees. Winter loped back and forth between him and Otto, growling protectively at the leafy bushes. Joseph found himself liking the huge wolf more and more. Perhaps it wasn't so bad, but the Dilo was still a completely different story.

"Joseph," Otto called. "Have you gathered every sturdy branch you could find?" He held up a handful of sticks. Joseph hefted his own bundle in reply. "That should be enough. Back to the camp."

Winter padded by their side as they walked in silence. Otto set down his bundle and took a seat on a rock. He then picked up two sharp rocks and handed one to Joseph. "Make sure to sharpen both sides. We need to stake the camp," Weiss explained. He set to work, whittling away at a branch with his stone. Joseph followed his example as best he could, scraping away at bark and wood. Not much later, Winter started to pace restlessly by the camp. "Go hunt," Otto told him. The Direwolf bounded off into the golden hills.

"Is that safe? Sending the wolf off by itself, I mean," Joseph asked. He could not help but feel concerned for the beast.

"Don't worry, Winter's smart. He knows better than to fight anything bigger than himself," Otto explained while sharpening a branch.

"How did you befriend Winter?" Joseph asked curiously.

Otto tossed a finished stake onto the ground. "Perhaps I should start from the beginning."

As they sharpened stakes for the camp, Otto told him the story of how he washed up. Joseph listened intently as his new friend regaled him with the tale of his beginning. He learned how Weiss had washed ashore on a beach, much like himself. He had not yet made it into the shade of the jungle when he collapsed from heat. Winter had dragged him out of the scorching Sun on the first day, and every night since, he fed the wolf with Dodos from the beach. On the second night the huge wolf had kept something away from his camp, and the very day after, those things came back. Terror Birds, Weiss called them. Joseph had seen the skeletons of the beasts, but he shuddered when Otto described them up close. The Terror birds had cornered Winter, and the wolf would have been slain if Weiss had not interfered.

Otto even showed him the scar on his arm, a wound left by the beak of a bird. "A blow that was meant for my skull," Weiss told him. He would have perished then and there if not for the great white Direwolf. Winter had tackled the bird and torn out its throat, just mere moments before it could slay him. After that, the Direwolf had been Otto's constant companion and friend.

After befriending Winter, Otto's life on the island had become much easier. The way he told it, "even enjoyable sometimes." With the Direwolf, meat was never an issue and Otto had even found wild vegetables growing by a hidden lake. He had improved his camp, tools and even made clothing. When his story was all but caught up, Otto told his side of the events earlier that day. Weiss and his beasts had been returning from the hidden lake when Winter had lifted his head and howled. A moment later, the great white wolf had charged to the beach, leaving Otto no choice but to follow.

That wolf saved my life, Joseph thought gratefully. "Perhaps Winter has some sixth sense," He told Otto, nodding at the Direwolf.

"Likely so," Weiss agreed. He picked up his finished bundle of sharpened stakes, each one as long as a spear and double ended. Joseph gathered up his own less impressive pile. "This way," Otto told him.

He took the stakes to the very edge of the clearing, the border between his camp and the jungle. "We'll do this side first," Weiss announced, shooting the jungle a dark glare. "I mislike these woods. We place the spikes in a half circle, tips facing outward. Leave a gap large enough for Winter," Otto instructed. Weiss had taken a thick log and only sharpened one side, leaving the other flat. They used heavy stones to hammer the blunt end, driving the sharp tip into the ground. Afterward they stuck the stakes into the holes, sharp tips pointing away from the camp and toward the savage wilderness.

"How about yourself, friend?" Otto said suddenly. They were packing mud around the base of the wooden palisade. Joseph glanced at the other man curiously. "Your story, I mean. How did you end up on the beach that day?"

Joseph took a deep breath and started from the beginning. "My story is not half so long as yours, and far less exciting," He warned. Joseph remembered the day that he washed up very clearly.

He had blinked to life on a rocky windswept beach, the Sun glaring brightly overhead. A steep ice-tipped mountain had loomed over the shore far off in the distance like a huge stone wraith. The first things he noticed upon sitting up were the strange creatures roaming the plains. They were massive, hairy beasts, with shaggy brown and black coats. They lumbered about the prairie, trampling whole patches of grass beneath their mighty feet, and stirring up a mighty cloud of dust. The creatures had wooly tufts of hair above their heads and huge tusks, far larger than those of even the biggest boar. Every one of them stood taller than the line of trees bordering the clearing, and the largest was nearly thrice the height of Joseph.

The water had been freezing cold, with huge white caps of ice that drifted lazily in the dark blue sea. A fierce wind had blown down off the mountain, howling like a wolf with a bite near as sharp. There had been real wolves as well, Joseph recalled. Huge ones the size of bears, bigger than even Winter. Luckily none of them had noticed him. The pack was too busy trying to take down one of the massive hairy beasts. Whether they had succeeded or not, Joseph would never know.

He had gotten up and bolted down the beach, away from the huge grey mountain and away from the wolves. Joseph had never strayed far from the shore during the whole run. He walked when he was tired, but never dared to stop, fearing the demons that were sure to be on his trail. It had been a few hours at least when the land started to change. The icy caps gradually melted, giving way to a light blue ocean. Gusty bursts of wind had blown out of the sea, carrying warm drafts of air that seemed to thaw the land. He saw no more of the walking mountains, nor any of the demon wolves. Unfortunately, no part of the island was free of the nightmarish beasts that called it home. Joseph had spied a few lone cats, about as large as Otto's wolf, Winter. They were sleek and muscular, prowling the hills in search for prey and occasionally getting into fights with massive birds much larger than himself. When the monstrous winged beasts took to the air, Joseph saw that their wings, when fully extended, were thrice the width of himself. Just by their bodies alone, the birds surpassed him in size. They had keen predatory eyes, yellow jewels that scanned the shore for prey. Their large frames ended with a fan of stiff tail feathers, each one as long as his arm. Luckily none of the beasts had spotted him, and if they did, they chose not to attack.

Perhaps an hour later, Joseph had seen his first demon lizard. It had stood nearly twice his height with two spiky horns over its head, much like a bull. From jaw to tail, it was more than thrice the length of Winter, though it's bulky tail made up nearly half of that. Those burning orange eyes had locked onto him and the monster roared. It was thunderously loud and sent every single one of the hairs on his back standing on end. The demon lizard had shown him an open mouth full of gleaming yellow teeth, a few rotten scraps of meat still clinging to the shiny blades. Each one had been as long as his hand and looked sharp as a sword. The huge bull lizard had charged at him, massive feet pounding the ground and sending up a huge cloud of dust. Joseph had turned around and ran as fast as his legs would take him, the demon right on his tail. His heart had been beating faster than his feet could move, every muscle of his body screaming in terror. He could tell that the monster was gaining ground, every miniature tremor it sent closer than the last. Joseph had thought himself as good as dead until he had seen the herd up ahead.

They were huge furry creatures that looked almost like horses but with the body of bears, standing half again his height, and twice as long. There had been around half a dozen in all, both young and old. They had romped around on powerful hind legs and curled knuckles, arms nearly his height propelling them forward. One of the adults had spotted them first and let loose a bellowing honk. Whether it was directed at him or the monster bull, Joseph could not say for sure. The one that had sounded the alarm shifted its hind legs and picked up a massive boulder, at least half its size. The beast carried the huge rock easily, as if it were no more than a pile of rags. The others all took up similar stances and picked up whatever they could find; logs, mud, rocks, and snow. With a heavy grunt, the leader had thrown its boulder with the ease that Joseph might toss a stone. The huge rock sailed for a moment before landing with a heavy thump and rolling. Joseph had barely managed to twist out of the way, just seconds before the boulder would have flattened him to the ground.

The demon lizard had not been half as lucky. After Joseph had jumped out of the way, the massive stone had thumped right into the huge beast with a mighty snap. The boulder sent the charging bull flying backwards, legs thrashing and long tail flailing. As soon as the dazed beast got back up, a volley of nature struck it back down. Rocks pounded against its flanks, mud and snow pelted its eyes and logs cracked against its legs. The sheer force that the projectiles were hurled made Joseph wince. The lizard had stumbled to its feet, all but blind. It limped away in a hurry, rocks and trees pursuing it all the way down the beach. Joseph had gotten back to his feet with a whoop of victory, the demon lizard retreating into the distance. His joy was short-lived, however. Now that the bigger threat had been defeated, the family of horse-bears turned on him once more. He had retreated with haste.

That night Joseph had found his first clues of humanity. A burnt out husk of a fire sat hugging a low overhanging cliff, a few pine trees flanking it on either side. Joseph had entered cautiously, not sure if this was the home of some other soul. His hopes of meeting another human had vanished the instant he set foot inside. A rotten corpse had been laying face-down, hidden from the outside by a bushy tree. Joseph had turned it over and recoiled in disgust. It had been impossible to tell whether the carcass had been a man or a woman. The skull was a complete ruin; half of it was a crusty mess of blood and torn flesh, brown, green, and crawling with plump white maggots. The other half gleamed a pale and sickly yellow, faint pink stains the only trace of flesh. Two gaping black voids were all that remained of its eyes. A few thin and brittle strands of jet black hair still clung to the rotting scalp.

Joseph had shuddered and turned away. Later he had kicked some dirt over the corpse and spent the night huddled by the fire, as far away from the carcass as he could get. He had not wanted to stay, but there was already flint for a fire and the shelter would protect him from the wind and beasts as well. Joseph had seen no other sensible choice but to stay. His stomach had rumbled and growled, but there was nothing he could do about it except wait for the morning. There was nothing to eat, but for the rough and stringy yellow grass outside. That night he had slept unwell, plagued with nightmares of living skeletons and maggots the size of cows.

When the morning had dawned at last, Joseph set out at once, glad to finally be rid of the dreary tomb. The only tools he had found in the camp were the two pieces of flint and a walking stick, though still in the clutches of the corpse. Joseph had seen plenty of the orange stones lying about, so he left them in the cave for anyone else who might have the misfortune to wash onto this island. There were sticks aplenty to be found all over the shore, and Joseph was not at all eager to steal from the corpse. He left everything the way it was when he woke up.

Luckily Joseph did not see any more of the great horned lizard that day, nor any of the other ferocious beasts he had encountered before. As he traveled, the land continued to change; dark imposing pines turned into warm oaks, bright maples and a dozen other exotic trees Joseph could not identify. Seemingly every type of plant in the world sprouted from the ground, while plump fruits hung ripe from the trees in great clumps. Joseph had spotted what he was sure to be a peach, though he had no idea how he managed to remember such a tiny detail in the hazy mists of his absent memory. A cautious nip had proven his suspicions correct. The fruit was ripe and juicy, the tender flesh sweet on his tongue. Joseph had pulled down half a dozen more, munching on the succulent treasures as he walked. He had seen all sorts of lizards feasting on the delicious treats as he walked, the scaly beasts watching him with wary eyes.

A herd of large duck billed beasts trampled about, pulling fruits from the trees by the dozen. Two massive spiked lizards had lumbered around near the outskirts of the jungle, bushels of greens rapidly disappearing beneath their hungry beaks. A few large scaly creatures that looked like turtles had been shuffling around the beach, each one a bit shorter than Joseph, though their shells were easily twice as wide. A school of fish had been circling about in the clear blue waters, a few were as big or even larger than Joseph himself. There had also been a small flock of fat chickens, scuttling around after the larger beasts and picking up whatever morsels they dropped. Joseph had even seen great flying lizards with huge, agile wings and sharp crests swooping into the sea and coming back out with fish. For a moment he wandered amongst the creatures, peaceful at last. And then a thunderous roar shook the very ground.

It was not the same as the horned lizard from yesterday, Joseph realized immediately. This roar had been much louder, deeper and far more terrifying. A huge black monster strode onto the beach, scales gleaming and eyes shining. It roared again and a mouth the size of a small cave yawned open, rows of shiny yellow teeth glistening. The beast was easily twice the height and thrice the length of the horned lizard from before, muscular and heavily built. It stood on two powerful legs, each one ending in a sharp three-clawed foot. It had two bony arms that seemed tiny in contrast to the rest of its body, not much bigger than Joseph's own. The monster had two glistening yellow eyes the size of peaches, both scanning the beach and shining at the prospect of a fresh kill. The beast's tail as thick as Joseph, and longer than most of the fronded trees lining the outskirts of the jungle. Its head alone was huge, massive jaws large enough to close around half the different creatures on the beach. Joseph felt like an insect next to this sheer titan.

Everything on the beach had looked up and bolted, herds and families forgotten, now it was every creature for itself. The monster snapped its jaws together with a mighty clash, spittle flying everywhere. The Duckbill herd kicked up a storm of dust as they fled, most of them thundering right at Joseph. He huddled into a ball, trying to make himself as small as possible. The herd split around him, heavy feet trampling the beach flat. The

flying lizards took to the air, massive wings kicking up a cloud of sand. The turtles either waddled for the safety of the ocean or curled up, limbs disappearing behind hard shells. The fat chickens simply froze, rooted in place by fear. The clumsy birds shook with terror, wings tucked in and heads bent down. Luckily for the chubby birds, the monster was not interested in them. They were no more than mere snacks to the behemoth. It was out for a feast.

The monster scanned the beach with murderous eyes and locked onto the massive spiked lizards, the largest creatures on the beach apart from itself. The beast roared, the thunderous bellow shaking the very ground. It charged at the closest one, a beast smaller than its comrade and a shallow green in colour. The spiked lizard snorted in terror, turning so that its tail was between itself and the charging titan. Its counterpart, a light grey beast, bellowed and moved to stand by its companion. The two spiked lizards rumbled and stood their ground as the monster thundered toward them.

Joseph could only watch in awe as the titans clashed. They came together in a storm of spikes, teeth and scales. The huge black lizard snapped and roared, powerful jaws bearing down on the smaller of the two. The green beast bellowed in pain, bleeding from half a dozen bites and twisting to escape the wrath of the monster. The grey lizard snorted and swung its tail in a heavy arc, massive spikes gleaming in the sunlight. The black titan careened out of the way, just barely avoiding the worst of the blow. The deadly tail only grazed its flank, leaving four long red rivers from where the sharp spikes gouged through scales and flesh. The monster roared in pain and rage, turning to bring its fury upon the offender. The grey lizard snorted in surprise and swung its tail again, spikes racing towards the larger beast with a scream of wind. The huge lizard roared in pain, the sharp tail leaving thin red trails of blood along its jaw. The titan bellowed, yellow eyes gleaming in sheer fury. It lowered its head and charged, headbutting the other beast so hard that the entire shore trembled.

Joseph fell backwards onto the sand with a heavy thud as the shockwave rippled through the ground. The grey lizard tipped over, legs thrashing as it rammed the sandy beach. The black titan snarled, jaw parting to show a gleaming mouth full of teeth sharp as blades. The monster pinned the flailing lizard by the neck with a heavy foot, razor-edged claws drawing blood. The grey beast swung its tail without much success, the spiked appendage only finding air. The black lizard roared and twisted its foot, driving all its weight into savage attack. There was a deafening crack and just like that, the spiked beast was dead.

The titan turned back to glare at the smaller of the two lizards; bloody, broken and struggling to limp away. It charged and drove the fleeing beast into a tree, knocking down a swath of the forest in the process. The plated lizard crashed through splintered wood and skidded to a halt, tail swinging for a final stand. It snorted and turned, but not fast enough. The huge black lizard rushed into its flank, jaws tearing through the soft flesh. The spiked lizard swung its tail, but the attack only enraged the ferocious beast farther. The monster slammed the lizard into a boulder and drove in for the final attack. With a vicious wrench of its head, the black lizard took half of the smaller beast's throat in a shower of blood.

Joseph managed to regain enough sense to scramble away as the beast turned its head toward him. Those murderous eyes followed him for an instant and then lost interest, turning back to the fresh corpses. Joseph fled with haste as the beast began to tear through flesh and bone. He ran for the rest of the day, putting as much distance between himself and the rampaging beast. When dusk came at last, Joseph made camp near a shallow stream, taking deep gulps from the water and splashing himself to cool down. He managed to set a pile of twigs on fire using two sharp pieces of flint from nearby. In no time at all, the flames were leaping as high as his waist. Joseph drifted off to sleep by the roaring orange fire.

The next morning he set out at once, glad to be moving. Away from the icy mountain and the demon wolves, away from the bull lizard and the grey tomb, and most of all, away from the roaring black titan. Joseph had only walked for a few hours when he came upon the beach. He had been keeping his eyes on the horizon when he tripped and crashed into the ground. Joseph had gotten back up, cursing and sputtering out rough clumps of sand. He had kicked whatever he had tripped over, only to send a cracked bone flying. Joseph had glanced down in surprise, only to find himself staring at a screaming corpse.

Stringy bits of flesh still clung to the ribcage and skull, brittle hair falling out in rough strands. Joseph had backed away, scanning the beach for enemies, only to find three more corpses. He had immediately picked up a heavy rock, turning in a way circle. Nothing had so much as glanced at him, save a plump beach chicken. Joseph had stayed crouched for a good while before finally mustering the courage to approach a corpse after the tense wait. One of them, more fresh than the others, still had most of its flesh intact. Joseph saw long claw marks everywhere. There was not a single part of the carcass that was not torn or shred into a bloody mess. Joseph shuddered at the ghastly sight, and then noticed the weapon still clutched by a rotten hand. He pried it loose with a sharp wrench, freeing the tool from the stiff grasp.

Joseph washed it in the ocean, cleaning the blood and grime from the handle. It was a three-pronged length of plant fibres tightly twined together, each head ending in a heavy stone. The handle was a grip of leather, snugly wrapped around the sturdy twine. Joseph tested it, swinging the weapon by the handle. He threw it at a beach chicken, hoping it would do some damage. The results were not as he expected yet nonetheless, Joseph was impressed. As the twine flew end over end, the three rocks spread out, a deadly snare unfolding between them. The stones hit the fat bird with a heavy thunk, the rocks tightly twining around its legs. In the end, the beach chicken could only squirm as it crashed into the ground. Joseph smiled and untangled his new weapon, the bird flapping and screeching the whole time. When it was free, he set off at once, the rotting human corpses watching him go.

Joseph made camp that night in a fortified grove, thick trees bordering him like walls. The gaps between them were too small for anything big to get in. So long as nothing plowed them over to get in, Joseph was safe. He spent the night huddled by the fire and tinkering with the throwing rocks. He managed to make a second copy out of a stringy bush and some flat stones. It took him an hour at the least, and the results were poor compared to the original. Joseph went to sleep cradling the weapons in either hand.

It had been the next morning that he found the first promising signs of human life. Joseph had travelled for around half the day when he came upon the footprints. They ran from the beach into the jungle, broken branches and stomped clumps of grass heralding the way. Joseph had followed at a soft tread, his throwing stones in either hand. He scanned the undergrowth warily, head turning to watch his surroundings. Strange rumbling calls and high pitched shrieks punctuated the stirring of the leaves overhead. Every blade of grass swayed and every shadow danced. The very jungle was alive.

He had arrived at the clearing a while later, the bloody site of some obvious struggle. Broken spears and skeletons were strewn about amidst trampled grass and red stains. Joseph wandered about the carnage for a while, examining the skeletons and wooden spears. He gingerly picked one of the weapons up, turning it over and feeling its weight. The spear was snapped in half, covered in dried blood and jagged to the touch. Joseph wandered over to a carcass and a few insects the size of his foot took off. They had nearly picked the corpse clean, but a few ragged shreds of flesh still stubbornly clung to the bones.

The skeletons had lengthy frames and heavy beaks. Joseph accidentally snapped a bone with a misplaced footstep. He picked one brittle half up and found that the insides were hollow, resulting in the bone being surprisingly light. The carcass had to belong to some sort of huge bird. Joseph was distracted from his thoughts as he noticed a trail of blood out of the corner of his eye. He dropped the bone and pushed through the undergrowth, never straying far from the bloody path. Thin branches were snapped and leaves littered the ground. Joseph noticed two sets of tracks snaking along; one of them was clearly the same human from before, only the footprints were outlined in blood. The other was a set of pawprints, like those of a hound or wolf, only much larger than anything Joseph had ever known. The two tracks were so close together that they had to be associated. Either the man and beast had walked side by side, or more disturbingly, the monster wolf had been stalking the human. Joseph was dismayed at the thought that his only lead to civilization might have perished in these very woods. He tightened his grip on the throwing stones and pressed on.

Joseph was relieved when he pushed out into sunlight at last, the mysterious jungle still echoing behind him. The trail continued on, patches of the yellow-green field stained brown from the dried blood. He scanned the horizon, looking for clues, for threats, for anything. All of a sudden, he spotted a wisp of smoke drifting into the heavens from the distance. Joseph hollered in joy, but clamped a hand over his mouth right after, the sound of his voice echoing across the prairie. He was suddenly uncomfortably aware of how loud his voice rang out. Joseph started toward the smoke at a brisk jog, then thought better of it and full out sprinted.

Everything happened so fast that he could barely process it. A wolf howled, off in the distance, the ghostly cry ringing across the plains. Joseph paused, trying to clue everything together. Was it the very beast whose tracks he was following? Had the wolf sensed him? And then the lizards had attacked. One instant he was running, the next, a pair of large lizards with frilled necks were barring his path. They hissed at him, fangs gleaming and bright ruffs unfolding. Joseph had stumbled away and just barely dodged the foul green acid that the beasts spat. The vile globs had sailed past him, landed in the grass, and melted it away with a sharp hiss. Joseph turned back to his assailants and swung one of the rock snares, the thin whistle of air whipping around him. The smaller brown lizard lunged at him with a ferocious snarl, jaws snapping for his neck. Joseph let the weapon fly, the rocks bounding the beast's legs together. The lizard growled in surprise and struggled to free itself while its mate charged at him.

Joseph whipped his remaining rock snare at the monster, the stones striking it across the jaw. He tugged it back and swung again, the rocks lashing its frill this time. The beast snarled, more infuriated than hurt. It rushed him suddenly, the hard skull ramming him in the chest and sending his remaining rock bundle flying. Joseph fell to the ground, the wind knocked from his lungs. Just as the beast was about to end him, he heard a sharp whistle and the lizard whipped its head up. It hissed and unfurled its frills, spitting at an unseen attacker. Joseph turned his head in time to see a massive wolf twist out of the way and snarl. The newcomer sprinted at the lizard in a white blur and pounced on it, the two going down together. They snapped and hissed, rolling in the dust with lightning speed. Joseph could barely track their movements.

He turned away from the hectic scrimmage only to find another unfolding before him. A man armored in leather thrust a spear as tall as himself at the brown lizard, still ensnared by the throwing stones. The beast squirmed away at the last possible second and the spear only grazed its frill. The lizard hissed in rage and spat at the man, the vile acid finding a nook between his leather and turning his shoulder a tender pink. The man cried out in pain, stumbled over a rock and fell, his spear spinning out of reach. Joseph took the chance to leap up, scanning the ground. He quickly spotted his second set of throwing stones and ran to it. A quick glance backward revealed that yet another lizard had joined the fray. The man had a bone dagger in his hand, slashing at the brown reptile while the newest one, a small green lizard with an orange frill, hissed and snapped at the larger beast. Joseph slid to a halt next to his weapon and deftly snatched it from the ground. He turned back, only to watch the man slide behind the brown lizard and open its throat, a wide red smile against the rough brown scales.

The beast collapsed into the dust, blood staining the ground a crimson red. The man heaved in relief and retrieved his spear from where it had fallen. The lizard with the orange frill chirped in delight at the fallen corpse. The other man spared it a quick smile and then slapped at his shoulder, his grin turning into a grimace. A layer of the leather vest was hideously disfigured and the man's shoulder was still an itchy pink from the lizard spit. The huge wolf padded back to its master, muzzle dripping red. The man had rested a hand on its head and glanced over at him.

Joseph paused, pushing on a stake to make sure it held. He looked back up at Otto. "And you know the rest," he said, concluding the story.

Weiss was silent for a moment, thrusting one final stake into the ground before he spoke again. "You've faced hardships, aye. There will be many more to follow." He surveyed their work and nodded in approval, turning back to Joseph. "Come, our work here is done." Otto got up and clapped him on the back. Joseph rose and followed Weiss, casting a glance back at their work. Every side of the camp was staked against the outside world, save the cliff to their backs. There was a small opening between some spikes, just barely large enough for Winter to squeeze through.

Joseph found his spot on the rock and watched as Otto got the fire blazing. The sun was beginning to hide behind the horizon, a half circle of yellow still peaking out from behind the hills. The sky was rose and gold, with wispy purple clouds crawling along at a sluggish pace. Winter had curled up under the shade, panting happily with his tongue hanging out. The orange Dilo kept a careful watch over the camp, dark voids scanning every little movement.

They feasted well that night; leeks roasted with a haunch of the giant pig, carrots, potatoes and onions fried in bacon grease, and shiny red berries as a sweet finish. Otto's two beasts had already eaten earlier, and now scanned the distance for enemies. Joseph ate until he was stuffed to the brim, every last morsel disappearing from his plate. When all was well and done, he curled up by the fire on a pile of moss and grass, a luxury compared to his conditions before.

For the first time that night, Joseph slept peacefully.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **First off, you may have noticed I haven't taken a name suggestion for the Dilo yet. This chapter takes off right after the last one (actually a bit before the last ended) so I felt it would be unnatural and feel forced if I added a name in. Keep those suggestions coming though, a name will be taken by the next chapter.**

 **TheJaiganticBridge, thank you for the continued support and name suggestion. Your feedback is well appreciated.**

 **NightWyvern91792, thank you for the kind praise and name suggestion. And I'll definitely try my best!**

 **Tall-Gothic-Guy, your guess is closer than you might think. They definitely aren't from modern times, that's for sure. Thank you for the praise and name suggestion. Your reviews are always welcome.**

 **Kitsune-Hime1111, thank you for the feedback and name suggestion. And I agree, Direwolves for the win :)**

 **Guest** **, thank you for the feedback and I would be happy to join your tribe if I get a chance one day.**

 **Anonymous, please do not corrupt the site or troll writers with hate comments.**

 **Thanks for taking the time to check out my first fanfiction, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Shout out to TheJaiganticBridge for helping with the story by researching some of the creatures. The Carno "bull lizard", Rex, Chalicotheriums "horse-bears" and Argentavis were made realistic by their help. Feel free to comment, ask questions or criticize my story, review is always welcome. And i** **f you like what you saw, make sure to check out the other ARK: Survival Evolved fanfictions out there. Have a great rest of your day or night.**

 **-DaRumpyBurr**


	6. Otto IV

**Otto IV**

* * *

The morning was crisp and warm, with just the barest trace of dew still clinging to the emerald blades of grass. Joseph was already up, hunched over a rock and fixing a bone spearhead to a long wooden shaft. The other man was armoured head to toe in hide and had an axe strapped to his waist. He nodded his greetings as Otto emerged from the lean-to and yawned, finally getting a chance to stretch.

"Rain's stopped," Joseph said.

"About time," Otto returned with a grin. "Means we can finally hunt. I was just beginning to forget what meat tasted like."

Joseph smiled at the jest as he looped a vine around the spear, joining the bone to the wood. "It feels good to be out and about," he said nodding at the rickety wood lean-to behind Otto. "Thankfully the shelter held."

"I told you to have faith, my friend," Otto replied with a smile. He glanced back at the soggy wood lean-to behind him, just in time to see Hawk emerge with a grumpy snarl. The orange Dilophosaurus had hated being cooped up every bit as much as them. Winter appeared more regally, head held high and pristine white coat shining in the golden morning rays. He stalked over and rubbed against Otto, head nuzzling him affectionately. Hawk chirped and settled onto a nearby rock, basking in the warm glow of the Sun with her frills fanned out. "Had a nice sleep?" Otto asked. Joseph chuckled as the Dilo shot him a venomous glare, frills raised in aggression as if she could sense the mocking tone in his voice. She snarled and promptly went back to sunbathing on the warm rock.

"We should get started," Otto said as his stomach rumbled. Joseph nodded and tossed him a spear off the damp ground. Winter perked up at the mention of a hunt and bounded up to the crest of a hill, casting an apprehensive glance back. The Direwolf growled impatiently, pacing back and forth as Otto and Joseph made the slow trek up. Even Hawk got up to follow, her normally calm demeanour replaced by a rash desire to feed after the long confinement.

Otto could relate. The two days that they had spent under the rickety wooden shelter had left him hungry, soggy and cramped. He supposed they were lucky to have the lean-to already built, otherwise they would have spent the first day drenched and shivering in the rain. The storm had struck just barely three days after he had found Joseph. In that short time, they had gotten many things done that Otto would never have been able to do alone. Together they had fortified the camp; digging a second firepit, staking and ditching the borders, and of course, raising the shelter. On top of that, larger and swifter prey could be caught because of their greater numbers. They had already taken down a swift and long-limbed lizard that the Dossier had indicated as a Gallimimus. Extra knives and spearheads had been sharpened from the bones, while a second set of hide had been made for Joseph.

And with the extra pair of hands, Otto had been able to harvest larger bounties from foraging in the woods. They had just returned from a trip to the hidden lake when the first drops of rain had splattered against the land. At first it had been no more than a light shower, a cool refreshment from the heat of the blistering sun. And then the lightning had struck. Crackling bolts of white and purple blasted the land with searing fists. Dark clouds rolled in immediately afterward, punctuated by the booming roar of thunder. Sharp gusts of wind sliced at their faces, pelting them with watery fists. They had hastily retreated into the makeshift hut, the storm roaring at their backs.

The shelter was crude and ugly to look at, yet it had still done its job which Joseph and Otto were grateful for. The foundation was little more than two y-shaped logs sticking out of the ground, just barely matching Otto in height. A fallen tree was suspended between the two poles, around twice the length of Winter from snout to tail. A ramshackle assortment of logs and branches leaned against either side of the thin tree, tightly packed together with mud from the brook. They had lain broad jungle leaves across the mud as it dried, forming a waterproof shell. The result was an ugly, if not formidable shelter.

They had spent the first day coming up with things to keep themselves entertained. Otto had tried teaching Winter to fetch objects but to little avail. The Direwolf would simply lift his head to glance at him curiously, then settle back down and curl up. Joseph had been sharpening spearheads from Parasaur bone until his flint broke. The two had spent the rest of the day coming up with names for the orange Dilo. They couldn't keep calling her "The Dilo", although the clever beast certainly did respond to that name. After much discussion and disagreement, Otto and Joseph had finally settled on Hawk. No detail, no matter how small, seemed to go unnoticed by her cold, attentive black eyes. Her keen and clever personality was exactly like that of the fierce bird of prey.

Despite everything they tried, the days still seemed to stretch on forever. They could start no fires because of the occasional raindrop that slid past the shelter and dampened the ground. Instead, they had to make do with raw vegetables and a small portion of smoked fish and Phiomia meat. Otto and Joseph mainly dined on raw potatoes, carrots and lettuce leaves. The pitiful morsels were made damp and soggy by the rain, unpleasant to chew but the best they could hope for. The meat went to Winter and Hawk, both of whom refused to try any vegetables.

The storm made the outside world so dark and dreary that it was hard, if not impossible, to tell the difference between day and night. The beasts seemed to know the two apart from each other though, and so when they slept the humans did as well. Otto and Joseph were grateful for the Dossier. If not for the book, the seemingly endless grey days would have stretched on for an eternity. Squinting in the dark, they studied the creatures of every page intently. Should they ever have the misfortune to stumble upon any in the wild, they would be prepared.

Otto was stirred from the memory as they crested the hill. A massive herd of Triceratops stretched out across the prairie, a few score at least. They were easily distinguished by the three sharp horns on their heads and the heavy shield-like frills that adorned their skulls. The largest stood more than twice Joseph's height at the frill, and thrice the length of Winter from snout to tail. They romped about on four heavy trunk-like legs, grazing on clumps of greens and trampling the yellow grass sea into dusty barren ground. Most were clustered near the centre of the field, although some wandered alone on the outskirts; either outcasts or those that were brave enough to risk the danger of the wilds for more food.

Winter growled in dismay and shifted uneasily, a sentiment that Otto shared. They could scarcely hope to take down even one of the lumbering giants alone. With the huge herd nearby, it would only be a matter of seconds before their small party was surrounded and gored to death. He clenched and unclenched his left fist uncomfortably. The wound he had taken in saving Winter's life still bothered him regularly, but the dismal thought that he might go another day without meat seemed to inflame it further. He scowled and scanned the fringes, hoping to spot some stubborn youngling that had strayed from the herd. Otto paused when his eyes caught a shift in the undergrowth.

He finally noticed the newcomers. Or perhaps they had been there the whole time and he just hadn't seen them until now. Three stealthy beasts lurked on the outskirts of the plain, safely hidden by the shade of the trees. The largest was covered from neck to tail in feathers. It was huge, easily thrice his height at the crook of its back with an upraised head that looked down upon practically everything in the clearing. Two smaller beasts prowled on either of its flanks, bull-horned creatures with fierce looking jaws and long, thrashing tails. They seemed small in contrast to the feathered beast and it was hard to tell from the distance, but Otto guessed that they stood at twice his height. There was no doubt that the smaller ones were Carnotaurus, but the largest...

Otto put a hand on Joseph's shoulder and pointed to the trees. The brawny man followed his outstretched finger and saw the beasts. "Trouble," Otto nodded.

Joseph cursed loudly. "Carnos, the accursed wretches," he said, a venomous hatred dripping from his tone. Joseph had been chased and nearly killed by a Carnotaurus on his very first day on the island. It was no wonder that he held a grudge against the beasts. And who wouldn't? Otto thought. Joseph's gaze centered on the huge feathered one. "And a Yutyrannus?" There was only fear in his voice this time.

Otto nodded. He had come to the same conclusions himself. Though the smaller Carnotaurus were already bad enough, the massive Yutyrannus would be devastating if it ever caught up to them. The smaller beasts were said to be swift hunters on flat terrain. The Carnotaurus also had deadly horns that could be used to gore prey, though the Dossier said that they were mainly used for fighting rivals. It's a wonder that Joseph survived an encounter with one. The feathered beast was a different story, though no less lethal. Yutyrannus was said to be among the most fearsome predators on the island, hunting with a pack of Carnotaurus and smaller carnivores at its side. The Dossier also mentioned something about a roar that both bolstered allies and terrified prey. Otto had never actually seen one for himself until now, but he knew better than to stick around.

"Best we get moving," he said. "We don't want to be caught anywhere near this mess when it comes to blows." Winter barked in agreement and bounded back down towards the camp. Otto followed at a brisk jog, joined a moment later by Hawk and Joseph. Not yet an instant later, they heard an ear shattering roar from behind far behind them. Despite the distance, the cry still sent his hairs standing on end. Otto wanted nothing more than to make for the safety of their camp with all due haste. He somehow managed to steel his nerves and risk a glance backward, only to see chaos unfold beneath him.

The three predators charged from the cover of the shade. The Yutyrannus was at the head of the pack, roaring at the top of its lungs. This only seemed to embolden the two Carnos at its side, but had the exact opposite effect on the Triceratops herd. At least a third of the beasts had turned tail and fled, each one vying to escape the wrath of the monsters. Otto saw more than a few charging up the hill, their way. And while some fled, most of them formed a defensive circle, the young safely tucked behind the heavy wall. The huge beasts stood shoulder to shoulder, shield-like heads interlocking and sharp horns bristling against the oncoming mass of scales and teeth. The Yutyrannus stalked over and shot the display an uninterested glance. It snarled and turned to sweep its predatory gaze toward the fleeing Trikes. By running away from the herd they put themselves in a vulnerable position. Their main defence was turned away from the predators as they fled, leaving flanks and backsides exposed. The feathered brute roared once more, sending its two companions into a frenzy of snarls. The fleeing Trikes somehow managed to run even faster.

Otto glanced back ahead of him. Winter was almost to the camp and Joseph had overtaken him during the backward look. The other man slowed to a halt next to the wooden palisade and pulled a few stakes out of the ground. Winter slipped in through the gap and Joseph followed right after. Otto sprinted through the opening and skidded to a halt. He turned in time to see a young green Trike thunder over the hill, a snarling Carno on its tail. Otto cursed at the sight, but he could only pray that they stayed away from the camp. He could still hear the roaring of the Yutyrannus on the opposite side of the hill. Hawk slid through the opening and Joseph immediately began replacing the stakes. Otto ran up to help him, watching the approaching beasts out of the corner of his eye. They stuck the final pike into place and retreated to the centre of the camp, backs to the cliff and weapons in hand. Otto whistled and Winter instantly appeared at his side.

The green Triceratops, though no more than a youngling, still crashed through the barrier as if it were no more than a pile of twigs. Otto twisted out of the way as the barrier exploded, jagged splinters flying everywhere. The Trike thundered past them and slid to a halt before the cliff, trampling a cookfire and smashing a giant hole in the lean-to. The Carno was among them an instant later.

Otto stabbed for its eye, but the spear only grazed its snout, glancing off the rough scales. The beast snarled in pain and turned to bring its fury upon him. Just then, Hawk spat a vile glob of acid into its right eye. The Carno roared in pain and thrashed from side to side, the spit turning its yellow eye into an irritated pink. Winter snarled and leapt onto its back, sharp claws digging for purchase and iron jaw snapping at the thick neck. The Carno tilted to the right and smashed its back against a rock. Winter leapt off at the last moment and slid to a halt by Otto's side.

Joseph ran at the Carno with a booming war cry, spear hefted high. He thrust at its flank with all his great might and lodged the sharp bone spearhead deep. The wooden shaft snapped when he tried to pull it back out. Joseph scrambled away, tripping over his own feet as the monster snapped at him. Heavy jaws closed around the spot where he had been a moment before. The Carno's eyes were burning pits and blood ran freely down its side in crimson rivers. It roared and charged towards the fallen man. Otto knew he could not reach his friend in time, yet he still tried all the same. Winter darted past him and sprinted toward Joseph, but even the great white Direwolf's speed would not be enough to save him. Neither of them got there in time.

Just as the Carno was about to close in on Joseph, the young Trike, forgotten until now, rammed the monster with enough force to shatter a tree. There was a mighty crack and the Carno went flying. It crashed through a section of the palisade and rolled to a stop outside. The beast managed to raise its head, dazed from the heavy impact. It sported three new bloody gashes and a dozen cuts and scrapes along its side.

The Carno snarled in a last attempt to save its pride and limped away, blood staining the grass a crimson red. Otto whooped at the victory, joined by a relieved Joseph a moment later. Winter barked happily and even Hawk chirped in delight. The moment was ruined by the heavy snort from behind them. Otto turned to see the young Trike pawing the ground nervously, head swaying back and forth to watch them all. Now that he got a clear look at it, Otto could see the beast was clearly in pain. One jagged splinter of wood was lodged in its front leg, a remnant of the wooden barrier that the Trike had smashed through. Along its flank, there was a thin stream of blood that trickled down from a vicious bite-mark. The beast rumbled and backed away, a slight limp in its step.

"Hey there, it's alright," Otto said. He stepped forward cautiously, hands raised to show that he was not a threat. The beast snorted and stamped its heavy feet. Winter snarled in retaliation, but Otto quickly silenced the wolf with a hushed whisper and a wave of his hand. He spotted a discarded clump of grass by the smashed lean-to, most likely the remains of his bed. Otto picked it up slowly, his eyes never leaving the Trike. He approached again, more slowly this time and with the golden lump held out before him. Otto stopped when he was within petting distance and held the offering out before him. The Triceratops, a she, he noticed, edged closer tentatively. The beast gave the grass a suspicious sniff. A moment passed, and then the Trike took the grass in her stubby beak.

Otto allowed himself a thin smile as the Trike munched on the offering. Joseph caught onto what he was doing and handed Otto another clump of grass that had been strewn near his feet. The Trike took the second bushel and lowered her head as she feasted quietly. Otto crept up and carefully rested a hand on her frill. The Trike froze and raised her head to meet his eyes. Otto gave it a few soft strokes, whispering in a soothing tone all the while. The beast relaxed under his grip and Otto let loose a sigh of relief while the Trike continued munching on the grass. He gently took ahold of the frill and guided her toward the brook. "Some moss please," he nodded at Joseph. The other man hurried to comply, Hawk on his heels. Winter got up to follow but shot a concerned glance back at Otto. "I'll be fine," he assured. "Go with Joseph." The Direwolf lingered for a moment before bounding after the burly man, leaving him alone with the Triceratops.

Otto gingerly rinsed the angry red wound with cool water, washing the dust and grime from the rough green scales. The young Trike remained unmoving as he cleaned the bite wound. She was perfectly cooperative, only rumbling gently when he brushed his hand against her rough green hide. Perhaps she knows I'm trying to help, he thought. The Trike was just a bit more than half the size of the adults, he saw. She still towered over him by quite a bit, and Otto was no doubt only a fraction of her weight. She had the three horns on her head that every Triceratops boasted, though they were small compared to the wicked spikes he had seen on some of the larger Trikes. They were still deadly though. The blood staining her horns and the injured Carnotaurus could attest to that. As if the very thought of the monster could reaffirm its existence, Otto heard a far off roar from the other side of the hill. Two smaller ones followed a moment later, and Otto knew that the trio had made a kill. He shuddered and turned back to the Trike. The poor creature had been targeted because she was still young, weak, and separated from her herd.

Otto glanced up at the sound of returning footsteps. Joseph was back, carrying an armload of blue moss. Winter padded behind him, half-carrying and half-dragging a thin, limp, long-limbed green lizard in his jaw. Otto recognized it as the egg thief, the Oviraptor if he recalled correctly. It was a lime green colour and about a third of Winter's size. The Direwolf had grown since Otto first met him. Winter nearly stood at his shoulder now, whereas he had only come a bit above Otto's chest at first. Even still, carrying the Oviraptor must not have been an easy task.

"There were two of them," Joseph said by way of explanation. "The beasts already ate the other," he inclined at Hawk and Winter.

Otto nodded and took a clump of the blue moss. Together, he and Joseph had found that this variety was soothing against the skin, especially after being chewed. Nothing felt half as good as a wad of the blue moss on a fresh cut. Otto stuck a clump into his mouth and chewed, the spongy mass bitter against his tongue. He spat it into his hand and plastered it over the wound carefully, being sure not to press down too hard. The Trike flinched at the first touch but soon relaxed as the moss pressed against the cut. She shuddered in relief and snorted happily. Otto smiled and finished dressing the various other wounds.

When he was done, Otto slowly sank to his knees and took a firm hold on the sharp wooden splinter lodged in the Trike's front leg. This was the part he dreaded most. The Trike rumbled happily, but that was soon to change. Otto took a deep breath and wrenched the wooden shard free.

The Trike reared back and bellowed, sending up a huge cloud of dust. Otto scrambled away as it slammed back into the ground with a heavy thump. The beast shook its head and backed away, eyeing him reproachfully and rumbling in pain. Otto held his hands up to show he was harmless. The Trike bellowed and stamped her feet, head tossing wildly from side to side. Otto sensed his companions tense up behind him.

"It's alright," he said to the wounded beast. He took a step forward and she tossed her head in warning. "I'm just trying to help," Otto said slowly. He approached again, muttering hushed whispers. He held up the rest of the blue moss as he edged closer. For an instant, the beast looked like she wanted to trample him right on the spot.

The moment passed, and Otto got by without incidence. The young Trike, somewhat calm once more, seemed to register that he was trying to help. Otto spread the blue moss evenly over the gash, making sure to completely cover the wound. The Trike shuddered in relief and let out a happy rumble. She even leaned over to nuzzle him affectionately with her beak. Otto smiled and guided her back outside the ring of stakes. It was a much easier task now, for there were no stakes to be pulled up. Between the Trike and Carno clashing by their camp, more than a quarter of the palisade was reduced to rubble.

Otto led the lumbering beast outside the broken barrier and halfway up the hill. "Go. Be free now," he said. "Join your herd." The Trike simply snorted and turned around, away from the hill and back toward the camp. Otto was baffled. The Trike shambled through an opening, lay down by a pile of grass, and started munching on the nearby greens contently.

Joseph chuckled at the sight. "She wants to stay with us," he said. Otto cast a glance at the heaving form and back towards the hill. It would be no use trying to drag the Trike away, for she must have outweighed him ten times over. Otto sighed and let her be.

"I was sure she would want to be rid of us as soon as possible," he speculated. Joseph shrugged.

"Perhaps not, after all," he said. "I saw her on the outskirts of the herd while we were hunting. She was by herself."

"Oh," Otto said. The poor creature. "In that case, she's welcome by my fire any day." He padded over to the beast and offered her a clump of grass. The Trike took it in her beak gratefully with a happy snort. "Now about the camp . . ." Otto trailed off as he looked at the mess. "Perhaps we should get started on that. After, a meal of course," he said, eyeing the Oviraptor corpse.

* * *

They roasted the meat over a fire, along with a sparse handful of vegetables that Otto managed to scavenge from the camp. The meal tasted delicious, especially after two days of living off soggy vegetables. After the meal, they began clearing rubble from the camp. The stove had to be replaced, along with a quarter of the wall and nearly half the lean-to. The sun was well in the sky by the time they were finished, and a pile of shattered planks was heaped outside the camp.

Otto led the search into the jungle to replace what was lost. Winter padded by his side like a pale white shadow. They were joined by Joseph, Hawk, and surprisingly even the young Trike. She bellowed in alarm when they left and bounded after them with haste. Perhaps it was trauma from the Carno attack, or maybe a lifetime of isolation within her herd. Either way, the Trike seemed to regard them as a new herd and she never strayed far from Otto's side. Despite all her immense bulk, the Trike was even more timid than little Hawk.

They stopped a good bit in, where the canopy shrouded the world in a veil of darkness and the trees towered overhead like a row of grim sentinels. Otto found a tall but skinny tree that would serve their needs. He nodded back to Joseph who unholstered his axe and swung at the thin trunk. It fell after a few blows from the heavy weapon and was further hacked into manageable portions.

After a few awkward attempts, Winter finally managed to close his jaw around a thin log. He padded back to Otto triumphantly and received an affectionate ruffle for his efforts. Hawk managed to lift a log with her tiny arms, straining under the weight. Upon seeing the other beasts helping, the Trike rumbled and nuzzled Otto. She sank to the floor and tilted her immense back towards him. Otto smiled and patted her heavy flank. He hefted half a dozen logs onto her great back before the Trike slowly rose to her feet, straining against the cumbersome load. Otto secured them with a few sturdy vines and offered the huge beast a palmful of sweet purple berries for her efforts.

The Trike bellowed in delight as she took the treat. Otto hefted two heavy logs, one over each shoulder. Joseph followed suit and the group headed back to camp. Halfway there, a sudden thought occurred to him.

"Joseph," Otto began slowly. "The blue Dodo. Did you see her at all today?"

The other man paused. "No," he finally announced. "Why?"

Otto raised one pale finger at the bloody splotch on the ground. A stiff blue feather drenched in red was all that remained of the blue Dodo.

* * *

 **Author's Note:  
** **A new friend, yay! Taking name suggestions for the Trike.**

 **Special thanks to everyone who left a name suggestion, unfortunately I couldn't accept them all :( I ended up selecting the name "Hawk", suggested by TheJaiganticBridge.**

 **In other news, the next chapter will be delayed. Studying has eaten away at so much of my time that I am far behind schedule. The next chapter is only halfway done, and there is no way that I can finish the other half and write the Finals in the same week. Do not expect the next chapter to be up by Friday. I will try to get it done as soon as possible, you have my word.**

 **DevoutRelic, thanks for the positive feedback and I hope you find the rest of this story enjoyable :)**

 **Tall-Gothic-Guy, thanks for the continued support. Unfortunately for the sake of this story, everyone will be from around the same time period.**

 **haydenunstopable, thank you for the support. More is on the way.**

 **Thanks for taking the time to check out my first fanfiction, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Shout out to TheJaiganticBridge for helping with the story by researching some of the creatures. Feel free to comment, ask questions or criticize my story, review is always welcome. And i** **f you like what you saw, make sure to check out the other ARK: Survival Evolved fanfictions out there. Have a great rest of your day or night.**

 **-DaRumpyBurr**


	7. Joseph II

**Sorry for the long(ish) delay, I'm back for good, now that my studies are over.**

* * *

 **Joseph II**

* * *

Sarah stamped her feet and bellowed nervously. Otto urged the timid green Triceratops onwards with a gentle tug at her reins. "It's alright, girl. Easy now," Joseph heard him mutter from the front of the saddle. He had to admit, Weiss seemed to have a natural talent for befriending the island's creatures. Even as he had the thought, Winter came padding back from up ahead. He barked twice, turned again, and impatiently stalked around the corner.

"What do you think he's found?" Joseph asked from the rear of the saddle.

"I have no clue," Weiss replied. "But whatever the matter is, it has to be important enough for him to drag us all the way out here." _What indeed,_ Joseph thought. The white Direwolf had perked up at least a few hours ago, howling into the heavens and then barking like some feral hound. He had bounded off soon after that, tail flapping behind him like a great white flag. But the only time that Winter had ever howled before was when the Direwolf found Joseph himself. It was a curious thought that the wolf might have sniffed out yet another human. Only the Gods themselves knew when they would get off this island, and Joseph would not mind the presence of another survivor until they did. _So is it too much to ask that he's found another human?_

"We're almost there," Otto assured, stirring Joseph from his thoughts. "Winter's getting impatient. We must be close." Joseph nodded, though the motion was wasted against the other man's back. There was truth to Otto's words, especially if Winter was acting up again. By now, Joseph trusted the wolf as much as Weiss himself.

Hawk suddenly shifted from her spot in the saddle. She slowly unwound her thin tail, stretching it to her full length. The small Dilophosaurus chirped in greeting as she unfurled her orange ruff. She settled back down, bathing in the sun after her short nap. Joseph risked getting bit by gently stroking her scaly back. The Dilo froze at his first touch but soon relaxed once more under his gentle touch. Slowly but surely, the orange Dilophosaurus had warmed up to him over the course of the past week. Joseph had seen the loyal bond between Otto and Winter firsthand. Having a faithful friend on this island, he decided, was enough to save your life one day. Whenever the time for a meal came, Joseph always made sure to set aside a portion for Hawk. She had developed a liking to cooked meat, and always accepted scraps from his plate.

Suddenly, the Dilophosaurus tensed up and hissed. Joseph flinched back, fearing he had done something wrong. Hawk hissed again, taking an aggressive stance as her bright orange frills fanned out. Joseph made to cover his face with his arms but quickly realized the beast wasn't even facing him. She stood straight as an arrow, snarling dead ahead of them.

Otto glanced over his shoulder from the front of the saddle. "What's the matt- "

Sarah snorted and tossed her back, jolting everyone in the saddle. She bellowed in alarm and dug her feet into the ground. Weiss cursed as he turned back around, straining to get the Triceratops under control. She snorted and shook her head, huge frill nearly knocking Otto off her back in the process. "Hey! It's okay, calm down," he shouted.

Weiss gripped the reins and pulled back, never releasing his grip until Sarah calmed down again. "I don't like this," he muttered. "All the animals acting up."

Joseph agreed, still tightly clutching the rim of the saddle. Otto cursed again as he drove the Trike onwards, murmuring under his breath. Winter chose that moment to reappear. The great white Direwolf snarled, growled and barked, dancing around Sarah as if he had gone mad. Finally, he seemed to give up and bounded ahead, turning the corner around a rocky cliff. Joseph had noticed the landscape slowly getting more rugged as they journeyed south. The gentle hills beyond the hidden lake had given way to rough rises and steep drops, swift rivers, and deep trenches. They had been going uphill for a while now, and Joseph suspected they would drop into another canyon soon.

Otto tugged at the reins and Sarah grudgingly gave way, grumbling as she plodded forward. The bulky Trike's affection for Otto had to be the only thing that kept her moving. She had been opposed to the ranging from the very start and had already made her opinions clear by refusing to move and bellowing her disapproval. Dozens of times, Joseph arduously recalled. Only hushed reassurances and gentle pats from Otto kept her going. Sarah had been utterly devoted to Weiss ever since he helped her recover from the brutal Carnotaurus attack.

The small party gradually approached Winter, who was still vigorously barking at them. He snapped and growled, chasing his tail and frisking back and forth. The wolf would disappear behind the corner and then pounce back out with a fierce snarl. If he didn't know better, Joseph would have thought the beast was half mad. Otto exhaled sharply as Sarah rounded the cliff. "What..." He heard Weiss gasp. Joseph shifted so he could see over Otto's shoulder. He released an exhale of his own.

An absolutely titanic skeleton stretched out in the canyon below. It was at least a few minutes of riding away, but every detail of the corpse was easily visible due to its sheer size. The frame was long and thick, with a neck that was easily half a dozen times Sarah's length from beak to tail. The huge pale ribs formed a ghostly arch high above the ground, easily large enough to swallow their whole group. The extensive tail was just as long, if not longer than the neck, although it narrowed out to a whip-thin end. The massive skeleton made Joseph feel like an insect in comparison. He shuddered to imagine the size of this monstrosity in life.

Otto gave the reins a gentle tug toward the fallen behemoth. A gentle slope snaked down toward the gravelly floor. The canyon stretched from left to right, farther than Joseph could see. The craggy cliffside was pockmarked by shallow dents and steep overhangs with the occasional shrub clinging to the rugged landscape. A chilling wind drove in from the right, ringing off the canyon walls and howling like some ghostly wolf. Apart from a few frail Pteranodons and some feathered Dimorphodons, there was no life in the spectral valley. Sarah picked her way down the slope slowly, carefully avoiding any rocks or shrubs that might send their group tumbling down to the canyon floor.

The massive skeleton was straight ahead, in the very centre of the valley. The distant cries of seabirds and the soft lapping of waves came from the far left. Joseph couldn't see the ocean, but he could certainly hear it. To their right was nothing but eerie silence, broken only by the ghostly ring of the wind. Otto turned his head from side to side, making similar observations. He paused for a moment before urging Sarah to continue in a straight line. Winter was already at the other end of the valley, barking at them to hurry. Massive boulders and chunky rocks pockmarked the land on either side of the skeleton. To go around was to waste precious time, time that they might not have. The sun was already straight above them, casting its scorching rays upon the land. It would take nearly half the day to get back to their camp, and Joseph certainly didn't want to be caught in the wilderness when night fell.

The fastest way to cross was right through the bone archway. Otto gave the hide reins another tug. Sarah snorted and stamped her feet, nearly throwing Joseph from the saddle. He clung desperately to the frame as Weiss reined the Trike back under control. Hawk hissed and Weiss cursed, but Joseph could not blame the beast for her reluctance to proceed. Just looking at the sheer size of the skeleton sent every one of his hairs standing on end. Joseph shuddered as they pulled to a halt before the open ribcage.

Sarah shied away again, bellowing and stamping her feet anxiously. "Come on girl," Otto said. "I don't like it any more than you, but it's the fastest way." The Trike ignored him completely. Sarah shook her great head and reared up, nearly throwing her passengers from the saddle. By some miracle, Weiss managed to get her under control again. "I'll have to dismount and guide her through," he sighed.

Sarah refused to advance a single step, no matter how insistently Otto tugged at the reins. Joseph nodded and swung to the side, his feet finding the wooden rungs across Sarah's flanks. The saddle had taken the labour of nearly a week, but the investment was well worth it. They could stay mounted atop the bulky Trike, safe from the dangers below. Logs and planks could also be hitched to the saddle, providing an easy way to transport goods. Joseph took the first rung and jumped the rest of the way. Not yet fully grown, Sarah was only a little taller than himself. He had seen some of the adult Triceratops though, and Joseph knew that it was only a matter of time before the gentle green Trike would tower over him.

Hawk followed him off a moment later. The Dilophosaurus could not use the ladder, but managed to make-do with the uneven ridges along the saddle. Long enough to safely jump, at least. Hawk landed with a thump by his feet. Otto gripped the first rung and pushed himself off, sending up a cloud of dust as he landed on the floor. He took ahold of the hide reins and pulled Sarah forward. She shied away at first, but after much insistent tugging, she grudgingly plodded along. The wind rattled off the bone archway with a sinister ring while ghostly echoes howled at them from every side. Joseph unholstered his spear and swiveled his head from side to side, carefully scanning their surroundings.

Weiss took the lead with Sarah following closely behind. The green Triceratops had strained to get away at first but now seemed resigned to say as close as possible to Otto. Joseph brought up the rear with Hawk at his side. He made sure to keep a careful eye on their back and flanks, lest some demon sneak up on them. Hawk joined him in the efforts and Joseph felt all the better with her alert eyes watching their surroundings. He hefted his spear high, ready to stab or throw at a moment's notice.

Their footsteps echoed ominously across the titan's grave, magnified by the massive bones on either side. Joseph shuddered and imagined all the different monsters that could be lurking behind those ghostly pillars. It was only then that he realized there were slashes and scrapes along the length of the skeleton. Joseph cursed and pointed them out to Otto. "What sort of monster would have been able to take that beast down?" He shivered and subconsciously edged closer to Sarah. The huge Trike seemed to have noticed the scrapes long ago, and bellowed in dismay as if saying 'I told you so'. Weiss frowned and called Winter back.

"Best if we stay together," he declared, shooting the scratches a dark look. "I don't like this place, and none of the beasts do either." Joseph agreed and made sure their surroundings were clear.

Luckily they pulled to a stop at the other end without incidence. Sarah and Hawk seemed to relax, but Winter only grew more aggressive. He barked and snapped, dancing back and forth with a primal ferocity. There was a narrow opening up ahead, and Winter made sure to point it out. He bounded through and barked at them to follow. Naturally, they had to force Sarah through.

Otto frowned at the gap after a few unsuccessful attempts. "Go on ahead," he said to Joseph. "It'll be a while before I can join you. Take Hawk and Winter too." He sighed and turned back to Sarah.

Joseph nodded and called for the two. Hawk immediately stepped up to join him, but Winter remained firmly planted by Otto's side. Only after a few words from Weiss did the Direwolf join them. Joseph hefted his spear and gingerly picked his way through the opening. Hawk followed him through, although Winter pushed past and bounded up ahead barking wildly. Joseph sighed and followed the wolf at a brisk jog.

Although the opening was narrow, the walls of the canyon eventually widened out. _At least that's good_ , he thought _. Weiss should be able to get Sarah through_. Winter disappeared around a bend, only to send up a frenzy of howls an instant later. _What could that be?_ Joseph's curiosity got the better of him, and he ran after the Direwolf. Hawk hissed in frustration, but managed to keep pace. Joseph rounded the bend, red-faced and breathless. Though he was at the peak of his health, the sun made every step feel like ten. It had been abnormally hot before, but in the dry canyon, the sun seemed to simply radiate fire. Joseph took a moment to catch his breath. Winter barked so suddenly that Joseph lifted his head. The Direwolf stood at the centre of what appeared to be . . .

"Winter!" Joseph called. The great white Direwolf turned to face him. "What is this place?"

The wolf barked and tossed his head toward a bush in response. He took a menacing step forward and began growling, low and deep. Hawk picked on, raising her frills in aggression while hissing at the undergrowth. That was when Joseph noticed it. The bush was trembling. His spear was immediately in his grip, the sharp bone spearhead leveled at the shrub. Whatever was inside that bush must have done something to the person who lived here.

There were many obvious signs of a previous inhabitant strewn about the small clearing; a burnt out fire near the side, flint, seashells, and a pile of leaves to sleep on. However, there wasn't any sign of a struggle. Joseph directed his attention back to the bush. "Show yourself!" He shouted, "This is the end for you, beast!" Hawk hissed and Winter began barking, but neither made a move to attack. They simply stood rooted in place, blasting the bush with a vocal barrage. And then the beast appeared. Or rather, the lack of one.

The man was short and frail, with a grizzled face tanned brown by the sun. A tousled patch of shaggy hair clung to his head, white as Winter's fur. A few similar tufts converged along his chin to form a wispy beard. He had a gaunt frame, so skinny that Joseph could count every single one of his ribs. The man was completely naked, save the same undergarments that both Otto and himself had washed ashore with. The old man had a fist sized rock tightly clutched in his grip, although his scrawny arms trembled under the weight. The man took one look at Winter and his eyes widened.

"Yield!" he rasped, throwing the heavy rock away. "Yield! Mercy, please!" The man swayed on his feet as if he could not bear to stand for a moment longer. Joseph was about to respond when the old man lurched forward, his eyes rolled back in his head. Joseph managed to catch the limp body before it crashed into the ground. He set the man down gently, taking care not to crush his skinny frame. Joseph checked for a pulse, his heart pounding. _Gods have mercy. Don't take this poor man's life when I've just found him._ There was a tense moment when the man was completely still, but it was quickly followed by a weak pulse. Joseph let out a relieved gasp.

"The Gods are good," he muttered. "He's still alive." Winter barked and Hawk chirped in response. Joseph took one look at the blistering sun and dragged the man back under the shade.

* * *

"He's waking," Otto said. Joseph nodded and produced his hide waterskin. Luckily for the old man, it was still partially full. After spending nearly half the day under the glaring sun, it was a wonder that any water remained at all. Joseph held the skin nearby as the frail body convulsed.

The old white haired man blinked to life, sputtering and coughing like a fish out of water. It was thirst that plagued his racking coughs. Joseph immediately pressed the waterskin into his frail hands. The old man's eyes widened at the sight of him but he still took the skin nonetheless. He tipped his head back and took a few deep gulps, water running down his stubbly chin. The man only paused long enough to catch his breath before pressing the hide to his mouth again. He finally coughed and handed the empty waterskin back to Joseph.

For a moment, the man just sat there dazed. His eyes swept across their group; past Otto with his spear in hand, past Joseph himself, past Sarah who snorted from somewhere behind them, past Hawk who chirped and cocked her head, and finally, they settled on Winter. The man's eyes widened as he stumbled to get away. "It's alright," Joseph called. "He won't hurt you." The old man looked back at him cautiously. Joseph offered a hand. The man paused for a moment uncertainly before taking it.

"Much obliged," he said as Joseph pulled him to his feet. His voice was still dry and hoarse from thirst.

"Of course," Joseph replied. Winter growled and the man seemed to remember that the Direwolf was still there. He backed away, eyeing the beast uncertainly. "I yielded!" He reminded them.

"So I heard," Weiss spoke up. "And you're free to go anytime. We aren't taking prisoners." The old man glanced from him to Joseph and back again. Perhaps he saw the truth in his words, for the man relaxed and bowed his head in gratitude.

"Thank you, kind friend." he backed away carefully, as if Weiss might change his mind at any time. The old man was scurrying away to grab his things when Otto went on.

"You could always join us, you know. If you wanted to, that is," he added. "We always have use for another pair of hands around the camp."

The old man slowly turned around and regarded Weiss with a hopeful look. "Would you truly?" He shook his head and looked down at his wrinkled hands, turning them over. "These hands are old and frail. Besides," he sighed "My memory has failed me. I cannot remember anything from beyond washing up. I am of no use to you."

Joseph exchanged a quick glance with Otto. All three of the men had washed onto the island with no memory. Otto gave him a slight nod, as it to say they would discuss this later. He turned back to the old man. "We have strength and manpower enough," he nodded back at the rest of their group. "What we really need is another pair of eyes to watch the camp, another voice by the fire, another ember of civilization on the island." He met the other man's eyes. "It matters not whether you have strength or skills to offer. Us survivors need to stick together." Otto held out his left hand, the wrist still bandaged with thin strips of hide.

The white haired man paused for a moment before finally nodding. "I'm with you." He clasped Otto's outstretched hand. "Willam."

Weiss grinned and gave his hand a firm shake. "Otto Weiss. The other man is Joseph," he said with a nod backwards.

Joseph stepped forward and shook the man's hand, imitating Otto's gesture. "An honour."

"The honour is mine," Willam replied. A faint smile tugged at his lips. "I'm grateful, truly. To both of you." Otto smiled and clasped him on the shoulder.

"You're with us now. Whether you like it or not." He glanced at the sky and frowned. The sun was three-quarters of the way across the horizon. "We should get moving. We have a long way to go."

Joseph nodded and holstered his weapons. He stopped by Sarah and Hawk where the small Dilophosaurus chirped at him expectantly. Joseph kneeled and cupped his hands together to form a human staircase. Hawk chirped happily and picked her way up towards the saddle. _She has too much pride for her own good,_ Joseph decided, although he still smiled nonetheless. He gripped a wooden rung and pulled himself up, following Hawk into the saddle. Joseph turned to offer Willam a hand, only to find the old man hesitantly backing away.

"Not just yet, my friends. There's, ah, a … matter that I must attend to first." He nodded at Weiss. "If you would be so kind as to lend your strength. It's just this way."

Otto shot Joseph a quizzical look before following Willam into the bush. _Now, what could this be about?_ Joseph's curiosity got the better of him, and he leaned over to hear better. The bush rustled and there was a surprised gasp followed by some hushed whispers. The bush went still for a moment, followed by an encumbered grunt and more shaking. Now Joseph _really_ wanted to know what was going on. He was about to jump off the saddle when Winter started growling softly. Hawk hissed by his side and Sarah rumbled from beneath them. Joseph paused at the rungs hesitantly, only for Otto to emerge a moment later. Only his back was facing Joseph, and Weiss appeared to be cradling something in his arms. A bit peeked over from behind his frame, and Joseph caught a glimpse of something round and smooth. Willam followed him out a moment later, clutching the other end of the object. The two strained under its weight; Willam slowly advancing while Otto retreated. They shifted sideways and Joseph caught his first clear glimpse at what they were holding.

The egg was nearly the size of Hawk curled up; a large misty grey orb that gleamed in the sunlight. Large as it was, the egg had to weigh as much as a boulder. Otto and Willam strained under its weight, feet digging into the ground for purchase. They were both red-faced and puffing from the exertion, yet somehow, the two managed to haul the egg onto Sarah's saddle. Joseph immediately moved to steady it, wrapping his arms around the smooth shell before it could roll over. Willam collapsed against Sarah's flank, while Otto gasped and kneeled to catch his breath.

"Where..." He finally choked out, "Did you find that?"

Willam took a moment to recover before responding. "The canyon opening. Just outside," he panted between breaths. "When I first got here. Rolled it in."

Joseph spoke up from his spot on the saddle. "Why did you take it?" He was curious to know the answer.

"A feeling, you might say," Willam replied. He pushed himself away from Sarah's flank. "I felt I had to protect it. The egg was all by itself, an easy meal for any passing predator."

Weiss got up as well, more or less recovered from earlier. "If you plan on taking it with us, hold it tight. The way home is rocky at best, treacherous at worst."

Willam nodded as he climbed the rungs. He took the egg back from Joseph when he swung into the saddle. Otto took Sarah's reins to lead her by foot. The large Trike bellowed in delight, happy to finally be free of the land. Winter stayed with the group this time, calm once more now that they had successfully found Willam. Hawk chirped contentedly and curled up by Joseph's side. He rested a hand on her back as the group set off at a slow lumber.

Joseph looked at the egg, still tightly cradled in Willam's arms. It had a misty grey complexion, although it was broken up by dashes of blue that ranged from cobalt to cerulean. Joseph wondered what sort of beast could produce an egg that large. After a bit of thorough contemplation, he decided it would be better if he never found out. Joseph could not help but remember the gashes on the massive skeleton. _Gods help us all. If that thing hatches into some sort of colossal monster..._ The grim thought trailed off ominously.

Joseph glanced back up at Willam, who sat opposite from him in the wide saddle. The old man's eyes were fixed on the massive egg. Joseph cleared his throat. Willam met his eyes and bestowed Joseph with a thin smile. "Anything I can help you with, friend?"

Joseph shook his head. "I was just wondering if you would take a second skin of water. We have an extra up here."

The old man smiled. "You're truly a kind soul, you and your friend both. I would thank you kindly for another skin of water." His voice was still hoarse from earlier. Joseph passed him the extra skin, still nearly full. Willam nodded gratefully and tipped his head back to gulp down a few mouthfuls of the precious liquid.

"You've been without water for a while now," Joseph observed as Willam wiped his mouth. The old man nodded.

"Three days ago from now, if my memory hasn't failed me. There was a shallow pool by my camp on the very first day that I washed up, but it dried up quickly, curse the scorching sun. After seeing the weather around here, it was a miracle that I found any water at all. There must have been some monster of a storm to leave that big of a puddle," he chuckled. Joseph grinned and nodded, recalling the brutal storm that had held them inside for nearly three days.

"The worst I've seen my whole life. Not saying much, though. I've scarcely been on this accursed island for a dozen days. Thirteen to be exact, if my memory serves correctly."

The old man blinked. "Really? I'd have thought you lived here for longer." He glanced at Joseph's hide clothing and the weapons strapped to his figure.

"Oh," Joseph said, noticing his gaze. "I have Weiss to thank for most of this," he nodded at Otto farther ahead. "He's been here for nearly a turn of the moon. Winter, Sarah and Hawk were all befriended by him."

"The wolf and... lizards?"

"Aye. He has a gift for taming the beasts."

Willam nodded, though something seemed to be troubling him. "These creatures. Though I have no memory of my old life, I'm absolutely certain I've never seen the likes of them before. A wolf the size of a pony, and those two. Whatever they are."

Joseph shrugged. "I know what you mean. Weiss does too, though he seems to get along with them better than anyone else. We've never seen these creatures before either. I think we've washed upon some sort of forgotten island, far from the rest of the world."

Willam nodded. "I've also thought of something along that line. It makes you wonder if we'll ever g-"

Sarah snorted and stamped her feet, jolting the saddle. Willam cursed and clutched his fragile cargo closer. Hawk, startled from her nap, uncoiled and hissed at an unseen attacker. Joseph glanced up to see what had caused the disruption, only to find that they had arrived before the enormous ribcage. He could hear Weiss from somewhere up ahead, gently reassuring Sarah with hushed whispers. The group patiently waited for Otto to coax the Trike into advancing. Sarah eventually lost the struggle, and let Weiss lead her through the titan's grave.

Willam gasped in disbelief as they passed below the bone archway. "What could it have been?" He pondered aloud. "A beast of that size. I shudder to imagine it in life."

"That's not the worst of it," Joseph said as he pointed toward the nearest rib. The long gouges in the bone were still there, just as he feared. _So my eyes weren't playing tricks on me in the heat._ "What do you think could take down something of this scale?" He gestured at the massive skeleton they were passing below.

Willam cursed softly. "I pray that I'll never find out."

"We all do,"Joseph sighed. "These scaled demons, even the smallest ones. They can rip a man to shreds in seconds, overtake the swiftest horse and leap unimaginable distances. If there's any hope for survival, us humans need to stick together."

Willam nodded solemnly. "I'm just glad you gave me a chance at life. Only God knows how much longer I would have survived on my own."

Joseph was about to reply when Sarah lurched to a halt. They pulled to a stop at the other end of the titan's ribcage. Joseph could hear Otto shuffling around somewhere below them. A moment later, his head peeked up over the side of the saddle and he braced them with a grin.

"We're finally free of this hellscape. It'll be easy-going from here on out." Weiss pulled himself into the saddle and took his seat at the reins. He gave them a gentle nudge and Sarah picked up her slow shamble once more. The sun was just beginning to slide behind the distant horizon, casting a soft orange glow over the land.

Otto scrutinized the sky carefully, then made some mental calculations in his head. "We'll reach the camp before dawn," he announced.

Willam looked concerned about the setting sun. "This camp of yours. It's safe?"

"As safe as anything on this island gets," Weiss replied with a quick glance over his shoulder. Willam didn't look very relieved.

"We've staked and ditched the borders with the sturdiest logs we could find," Joseph assured him. "Besides, if anything gets in we have Winter and the rest."

Willam nodded, only looking slightly better than before. "Are there any others at the camp?" He looked at Otto hopefully.

"I'm sorry to disappoint, but as far as I know, we're the only humans on the island."

The old man looked downcast. He was silent for a moment before some other thought occurred to him. "If I may ask, how did you end up on this island?"

Weiss remained still for a while before answering. "I don't know. That's the short answer. I've thought about it before, tried to recall what happened. Every time I turn up with nothing."

Joseph shifted toward his friend. "I can't remember anything from before I woke up either," he added. He turned to Willam. "And yourself?"

The old man sighed and shook his head. "Nothing. As far as I know, my life only started a few days ago."

Otto nodded. "I know what you mean. It's strange. I can remember my name and some other details, but not much else. It's almost like an instinct, or second nature."

The sun had finally set. Joseph fumbled in the dark for a torch. His hands closed around a thick wooden handle and he brought it to his chest. Otto passed him a shard of flint and a smooth rock from the front. Joseph struck the two stones together to produce a spark. It landed on the thatch head of the torch and took fire, casting an orange glow on their nearby surroundings. Weiss nodded his thanks and turned back to steering Sarah.

"So, Willam. If you don't mind me asking, how did you end up in that canyon?"

By the light of the fire, Joseph watched the old man scrunch his face up, as if recalling a painful memory that he had tried to erase. "I woke up on the beach, four days ago from today, wearing nothing but this," he gestured at the cloth undergarments wrapped around his abdomen. "All I knew was that I had to get out of there, and fast. I saw the scaled demons, a horde of them. There were big ones and small ones, feathered and scaled. Most of them were only interested in the grass, but there was one group, a pack really."

Willam paused, his face as pale as the moon in the orange glow of the torch. "They were big, larger than me although small compared to the others. They had bright feathers and powerful legs, jaws like iron and claws like daggers. There had to be half a dozen at the least. Everything on the beach was grazing peacefully until they came charging out of the jungle. They barely hesitated before going after a massive lizard with a back of bony plates and a spiked tail. They dove in from all sides, biting and clawing. I ran inland while they were distracted, for it was the only direction free of the demons. None of them followed." Willam tilted his head back and took a few gulps from the waterskin before going on.

"I walked through the canyon and found that small opening, the only place that looked safe. It dwindled down to a small clearing, cliffs on all sides, but you already knew that. Anyways, there was a puddle in the clearing. More of a pond, really. The bush back in my camp was full of sweet red berries when I first saw it. The food and water were enough to last me a scant few days. But the berries ran out, and the pond dried away. I managed to make a fire out of the few bits of wood that I could find. I would light it every night with the hopes that another survivor would see it. I used all the wood in the area after just two nights, and no one turned up."

Willam took another gulp of water. "I found the egg while out looking for firewood. Unguarded, all by itself. So I took it back to the camp with me and hid it as best I could. From there, I hid in the shade and prayed that nothing would find me. I had grown weak from my lack of food and water, too weak to get up and look for more. It was only a matter of time before I starved or died of thirst. There wasn't much to do but hope some stroke of luck would fall my way. And luckily you found me in time. I don't think I could have lasted much longer," Willam finished

"We're lucky to have found you as well," Otto replied. "But it's Winter you ought to thank. He was the one that led us to you."

"Your wolf?" Willam asked.

"Aye. A Direwolf, really." Winter barked from somewhere up ahead, as if he could sense his name being called. "You've told us your story, It's only fair that you know ours," Otto said. "I'll begin."

Weiss spoke of his life on the island, right up from he had woken on the beach nearly a moon's turn ago. Even though Joseph had heard it all before, he still listened intently as Otto regaled them with his tale. Weiss recalled his discovery of the dossier and how he slowly warmed up to Winter during his first few nights. He described the fight against the Terror Birds so vividly that Joseph felt as if he were really there. Things calmed down a bit after that, and Otto remarked on how he befriended Hawk and met Joseph. Weiss had inclined his head at the last part, and Joseph took over from there.

He recalled his own first day on the island; waking up on that rocky beach in the north and heading down south. Joseph relived being chased by the bull-horned Carnotaurus and the herd of horse-like Chalicotherium that fought it off. His hairs stood on end as he recalled watching the massive Tyrannosaurus Rex slaughter the pair of Stegosaurus. Joseph continued on, recalling his search for human life along the coast and how up until he met Otto, his efforts had turned up next to nothing. From there, he and Weiss would take turns catching Willam up to speed. They told him of how they had fortified the camp, waited out the storm, and befriended Sarah. Joseph shivered as they recounted the discovery of the blue Dodo, or at least the remains of it. The death had eventually been dismissed as the Yutyrannus and its Carnotaurus pack, but Joseph still felt a sense of foreboding whenever he thought of it. At the very least, the walls had been refortified in response.

After that, their lives had calmed down substantially. Many things that they could not have accomplished before were now possible with the help of Sarah. The huge Triceratops could haul logs that were too heavy, even for the rest of their group put together. Advances in the camp had been mainly due to her; stronger and taller walls, a refurbished lean-to, a wooden overhang from the cliffs to give the beasts a shelter, and a new pot for the fire. They had found one of the giant turtles, the Carbonemys, dead on the beach. It had only been a juvenile as well, and the shell was perfect for a cookpot. Yet it still weighed as much as a boulder, and neither Otto nor Joseph himself could have carried it. Luckily, Sarah had been with them and they managed to haul it back to the camp.

Otto was just finishing the story when they were hit with a rank odour. Willam nearly choked on the fumes. "Dear God, what is that stench?"

"Ah. We've made it to the hidden lake. Not much further now," Weiss said. The moonlight gleamed off ripples in the water, casting a faint silver glow in the darkness. Hawk suddenly rose from her corner of the saddle. She hissed at the darkness, bright frills unfolding as she took an aggressive stance. Sarah snorted and tossed her head, breaths coming in ragged bursts. Even Winter reappeared in the circle of light cast by Joseph's torch and started barking. The beasts produced a great cacophony of harsh cries in the dark of the night. Joseph was certain that every creature within a league would be woken by the commotion. "What's the matter with you all?" Otto asked, his face slightly pale.

Joseph scanned the darkness toward the direction they were all baying. He gasped and pointed. _But we saw it alive and well just earlier today! What…_

"A scorpion," Willam said. "A freakishly large one. What of it?"

"That," Joseph said as he pointed toward the pool of fresh green blood, still slowly oozing over the moonlit grass.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Moon's turn/turn of a moon = one month**

 **DevoutRelic: sorry for kinda botching your advice about the pacing, this was already planned near the very start. I'm looking to go back over and edit everything when the story is completed, so I'll be sure to actually take your advice when I do that ;) Anyways, took your advice about Joseph bonding with Hawk, and I'm looking forward to more of your helpful comments in the future!**

 **Tall-Gothic-Guy, thank you for the name suggestion and the continued support**

 **Guest, thank you for the continued support, unfortunitely I had already chosen a name, but feel free to leave more suggestions in the future!**

 **RedLightningD608, thanks for the supportive feedback for both my story and life. I hope you enjoy the chapters to come!**

 **Deven, thank you for the supportive comment.**

 **ItsJustCrow, thanks for the supportive comment. I geuss I already answered your question about riding the tames, but as for the other one: Otto and Joseph (now Willam too) will get to around the mid-game tier level. None of them come from a time with guns, but there will definitely be a blacksmith in the story later on.**

 **Thanks for taking the time to check out my first fanfiction, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I will try my best to upload every Friday. Feel free to comment, ask question or criticize my story, review is always welcome. And i** **f you like what you saw, make sure to check out the other ARK: Survival Evolved fanfictions out there. Have a great rest of your day or night.**

 **-DaRumpyBurr**


	8. Willam I

**Warning: Blood and gore**

* * *

 **Willam I**

* * *

"The beast put up a good chase," Joseph chuckled as he ladled out the soup.

Willam cupped his seashell eagerly as the rich brown liquid cascaded into his bowl like a waterfall. Chunks of greasy Phiomia, shiny purple eggplant, and creamy golden potatoes bobbed around like icebergs. The thin seashell did little to suppress the heat, and the bowl was scalding to the touch. Willam winced as he set it on the floor, although he could not help but salivate from the smell. Thin wisps of steam drifted up to his face, expelling a heavenly aroma. Joseph was regaling the group with a tale of his hunt, but Willam found it hard to concentrate when such a delicious meal was within reach.

"It was in the woods earlier today when I set out to fell trees for the fire. A blow from my axe startled the boar and before I knew it, the thing came flying at me from nowhere. Bowled me right over and darted away, squealing all the while. Hawk and Winter were just as startled as myself, and the beast was already halfway to the beach by the time we gave chase. I managed to stick it with a good arrow in the flank, slowing it down enough for Winter to overtake it." Joseph chuckled to himself as he poured Otto a generous helping. "The largest Phiomia I've ever seen. Even after Hawk and Winter had their share, it took us the better part of the afternoon to drag it home." Joseph ladled a helping for himself and blew on the shell to cool the meal.

"You have my gratitude," Willam replied with a smile. "We'll dine like kings tonight."

Otto favoured him with a grin while Joseph let out a hearty bellow. The large man took ahold of his plate and raised it high. "A toast," he cried, "To Willam and his first week on the island!" The others raised their own seashells and brought them together with a cheer.

A scalding droplet of broth splashed against Willam's arm and he howled in pain. Joseph burst out laughing, followed by Otto a moment later. Willam cursed, although he could not help but join in the laughter. The mood was especially jovial tonight, for they were celebrating Willam's first week on the island. The humans had a mouthwatering stew and even the beasts ate well tonight. Sarah was munching on a giant mound of grass, gathered specifically for this occasion. Hawk and Winter shared the Phiomia remains. It seemed to him like years ago when he had first met this peculiar band when in reality it had only been three days.

He had been pegging their positions from the very start and eventually figured out the hierarchy to this group. Otto was clearly the leader. Everyone in the camp looked up to him with respect and never questioned his decisions. He was a tall man with brownish-blonde hair and stormy grey eyes. Though not nearly as tall as Joseph. The dark-skinned man was taller than Weiss by half a head and had limbs the size of small trees. He was well muscled and towered over Willam by nearly two heads; a veritable giant among common men. Despite his intimidating size, Joseph was a friendly man who had looked after Willam from the very start. But for all his immense strength, Joseph still looked to Otto as the leader.

Then there were the beasts. Willam soon found that they were truly tame, completely different from the savage monsters he had seen on the beach. The Direwolf and Triceratops were both Otto's. He had befriended them during his stay on the island and commanded them with mutual respect. Hawk, on the other hand, was Joseph's. From the way Willam understood it, she had only stayed with the group for protection and food at first but now seemed to be just as tame as the rest. Joseph had befriended the Dilophosaurus by feeding her scraps from his own plate, and she now followed him everywhere. The beasts didn't seem to mind Willam's presence, although none of them listened to him either. Willam supposed he would just have to wait for his egg to hatch if he wanted a loyal companion.

"Well," Otto grinned when the last chuckles had died off. "Shall we dig in, or what? I'm famished." Willam nodded his head in agreement and together the three friends set to the meal.

The meat was tender and succulent; the eggplants sweet and savoury; the potatoes warm and creamy. Willam wolfed down mouthfuls of the heavenly stew, savouring each bite like he would never get the chance to eat again.

 _So life on this island isn't all that bad_ , Willam reflected as he ate. Indeed, he had managed to gain some weight over the course of the past few days. It was no longer possible to count every bone in his ribcage, and a healthy complexion had returned to his skin. Willam could work longer without needing a break, and his arms no longer looked prone to snap at any moment. Also, the food here was incredible. They dined on mouthwatering meals every day; sweet berries from the fields, tender fruits from the trees, freshly hunted meat or savoury vegetables from the hidden lake. With such a large party, they had access to all sorts of food. None of the local wildlife dared to stand up to their group.

Or so they thought. There was _something_ else out there, some hidden presence that that lurked beyond the trees. For the past few days, Willam had felt as if something were watching him, something cold and vicious that loved him not. The giant scorpion was living proof of its existence, or rather the opposite, he supposed. It had not perished of natural causes, that much was clear. Willam shuddered as he recalled the pool of fresh green blood that seeped from the broken husk. They had found long slashes etched all over the corpse and bloody tracks leading away from the site. Winter had seemed reluctant to follow the trail, even when they had returned the next day.

Everyone had been rather on-edge after the discovery, and a watch had been posted every night since then. Otto and Joseph, bless their souls, had split the sentry duty between themselves on the first night so that Willam could get a bit of sleep. He was grateful for that, and everything else they had done for him thereafter.

Food, clothes, and shelter had all been provided without a second thought or any expectation of repayment. As soon as the sun had risen on that first day, Otto and Joseph had set to work stitching an outfit for Willam. He had joined in too, after the other men had taught him the basics of working with hide. They had hauled a large and hairy animal skin off the tanning rack. It had come from a Phiomia, Otto explained to him. The hide was soft yet durable and perfect for clothing. The others had their outfits made from the same material, Willam was told.

The process was simple; Otto would cut the hide into smaller portions for breeches, shoes and a vest using a bone dagger that he always wore around his waist. Small holes would then be gouged along the sides, only large enough for tightly twined lengths of plant fibre to be threaded through. Sure enough, they were able to stitch the clothes together in just a few hours. Otto and Joseph had clearly been through the process before, and they blazed through the task easily. Willam had a new outfit to match theirs in no time at all.

They had spent the rest of that day close to camp, the dead scorpion still heavy on their minds. Willam had been given easy tasks such as collecting feed for Sarah or gathering fruits for meals. Otto had spent much of the day hunched over a rock with three sturdy yet flexible branches at his side, muttering as he worked. He had strung three brand new bows by the end, the wooden arcs joined together by taut plant fibres tightly twisted into a single cord. Joseph had chuckled and clapped Otto on the back when he saw the new weapons.

They had retired for the night soon after, Joseph more regretfully than anyone else. He had wanted to try one of the new bows but could not, for there were no arrows. Otto took the first watch with his back to the cliff, torch in hand and Winter at his side. Willam had managed to get a precious few moments of sleep before being shaken awake by the other man. He distinctly remembered a dream where a ship had passed within sight of the coast and spotted their group. Willam and his new friends had been on the wooden deck, on their way home when he had been thrown back into the harsh reality of his life.

The moon was already well past halfway through the sky when he awoke to take his shift. Otto had nodded and groggily handed him the torch before dozing off to sleep, his great white Direwolf protectively curled up by his side. Willam had found a spot next to the giant egg and pressed his back against the cliff to take his watch.

He heard strange hoots, bellows, and rumbles in the dark of the night, although he could not identify any of the sources. Winter stayed awake much longer than his master, silently sharing some of Willam's lonely vigil. The wolf's golden eyes almost seemed to bore past the darkness and Willam was grateful for his company. About halfway through, the Direwolf nestled up against Otto and fell asleep, leaving Willam alone with his thoughts. The rest of the night was uneventful, and Willam shook Joseph awake when his watch was over.

Unfortunately, Willam did not dream again that night and found himself blinking awake after another pitifully small reprieve. The rest of the group was already gearing up for a ranging, to gather resources, Joseph explained. They set out at the crack of dawn, Sarah's saddle stocked with smoked meat and a hide waterskin for each of them. Otto was at his customary spot near the front by the reins. Joseph lounged near the centre of the saddle with Hawk gently dozing at his side. Willam sat in the back observing the wildlife, peacefully for once. None of the wild beasts tried to molest their caravan during the entire trip.

"There," Otto had said. Willam had glanced over to where the man was pointing in time to see a small group of bird-like lizards emerge out of the brush. _Compys_ , Otto had explained. They were each no bigger than his foot with bright feathers atop their little heads. Joseph jumped off the saddle and gestured for Willam to do the same. He complied and followed the large man off. Weiss joined them a moment later, and the three regarded the feathered group. There were perhaps a dozen in all, each one watching them with curious gleaming black eyes. "And now the fun begins," Otto grinned. He turned to the other two. "Try to keep up as best you can."

Winter had burst out of the undergrowth so suddenly that Willam had stumbled away in shock. The great white Direwolf had an even greater effect on the Compys, who scattered in all directions. Otto speared one clean through the head as it hastily fled in his direction. Joseph had his axe out, slashing at any of the lizards who ran past him. Winter pounced and caught a Compy underneath his paw, pinning it down while he decapitated another with a savage wrench of his head. Willam managed to get his spear out in time, fumbling with the lengthy weapon. He stabbed at a swift purple-feathered beast, but only speared the sandy beach. Another ran past and he somehow managed to get this one in the tail. It squirmed on the end of his spear, pinned by the sharp bone tip. Willam slammed the weapon into the ground, over and over until the beast was dead.

He glanced up to see that the survivors had reformed into a tight cluster, perhaps half a dozen left now. They seemed to have gotten over the initial attack, and charged with high-pitched shrieks. Winter pounced into the heart of the crowd, sending many of the lizards flying. He slashed and bit, tearing through the group with savage fury. One of the Compys leapt at Joseph, who swiped it out of the air with his heavy stone axe. Another jumped at Willam, only for it to be knocked to the ground by Otto's spear. Willam snapped its neck with a well-placed stomp. The carnage went on until there was only one Compy left. It swept its head across the beach and quickly noticed all its companions were dead or dying. The beast fled, but didn't get far. Otto threw his spear and took the lizard clean in the centre. Blood splattered onto the beach with its dying spasms.

"Well, now wasn't that fun?" Otto grinned from ear to ear. "Now for the hard part," he sighed.

"There's a second part to this plan?" Willam had asked. Otto's smile had somehow widened.

"Of course. Where did you think we were going to get the feathers for the arrows?"

They had spent a good few hours on the beach that day, sitting in the shade and plucking feathers from the bird-like beasts. It was long, bloody work and Willam was glad the ocean was nearby. He rinsed his hands of blood afterward. By the end, they had collected nearly a hundred of the brightly coloured feathers. They were stiff and sleek, perfect for fletching arrows with. Dodo feathers might have done in a pinch, but they were soft and floppy; more of a hinderance than an asset. Some might even argue that a wooden shaft alone would be more accurate than an arrow fletched with one of the ridiculous feathers.

They had set off back to the camp afterward with a pile of the bright feathers heaped on the saddle. The rest of the day was mainly stocking resources and fletching arrows by the fire. They had a dinner of vegetable broth that night and retired for sleep soon after. The same watch schedule followed; Otto taking the first shift, Willam the second and Joseph the last. None of them had anything to report the next day and the whole camp seemed to relax, if only by a bit.

They had spent the third day gathering wood and practicing with the new bows. _Just earlier today_ , Willam reflected. Out of their group, Joseph was easily the best marksman. Seemingly without effort, he loosed arrow after arrow into the the log they were using for target practice. Circular rings rippled out from the pinpoint centre, just like the circles of a real target. It had been harvested from a large tree and propped against a boulder, about as wide across as the giant egg. The centre of the target was bristling with brightly coloured shafts by the end of their practice. Joseph was just naturally skilled, Willam supposed, or perhaps he had been a hunter before washing up. Either way, Joseph himself did not know the answer to his unexplainable skill.

Otto struggled with hitting the mark at first but gradually improved his accuracy. He was able to hit the target 9 times out of 10 by the end of their practice, though his arrows came nowhere close to Joseph's. It was still better than nothing though. Of the three, Willam was easily the worst. His arms trembled and he had a hard time notching the arrows. The bow would jump and wobble in his grasp like some living beast, resolute on making him fail. Willam was lucky if his shots came anywhere close to the propped up log. Less than half a dozen of his arrows found their mark during the few hours they practiced.

The rest of the day was more leisurely and relaxed. Joseph had gone out to chop wood after a healthy lunch of forest greens and sweet red berries. He had taken Hawk and Winter along for protection as well, leaving the camp somewhat barren. Sarah had milled about underneath the wooden overhang by the cliff, munching on some dried grass. She was growing rapidly and needed an astonishing amount of food every day. Since the time Willam had met the young Triceratops, Sarah seemed to have gained an entire head over him. He shuddered to imagine her size once fully grown.

Otto had taken his bow and a handful of arrows to go practice on the log. He was determined to master this new weapon, evidently afraid to fail his friends. Willam himself found that no matter how much he practiced with his bow, he could never get any better. So he had curled up with his back against the cliff instead. The egg was by his side, luminous and dazzling beneath the glare of the sun. The splashes of blue seemed to shift and ripple against the misty grey shell. Willam always felt better with his egg nearby. Perhaps it was the smooth shell or the mild warmth that it gave off. Either way, cradling the egg was greatly comforting to Willam. It had become something like a ritual to him, a short reprieve from the world and the struggles that he endured.

But in the end the egg was still only an egg; a smooth, round shell that protected a fragile creature inside. Willam made sure to keep it warm and happy, if that was even possible for an unborn creature. Recently he had felt something almost like a pulse or heartbeat inside. The struggle of an unborn creature. Willam had promised himself that he would take care of the egg from the moment he discovered the sparkling treasure. He supposed it was only a matter of time before it hatched. Willam would do everything in his power to care for the new creature.

Indeed, he already spent most of his spare time with the _Dossier_ in hand, puzzling out which of the many beasts would hatch from the egg. Neither Joseph nor Otto seemed to mind and even encouraged him to use their book. The two of them would join in to study occasionally, painstakingly memorizing every detail about the predators of the island. Reading was not enjoyment or entertainment for them, but rather a task. Willam suspected that they would rather be out foraging, hunting or training rather than study. But he didn't pester them for it, and they never bothered him for being useless at just about any physical task. The younger men were rash and restless but Willam had learned to be patient. _They'll learn in time_ , he thought, _let them have their youth. Only God knows what happened to mine._

Until then, Willam was happy to learn on their behalf. He had already narrowed down the possibilities for the egg. It couldn't be any of the mammals, he had figured from the very start. Neither could it be anything the size of a Dilophosaurus or smaller. Unless of course, whatever hatched would never grow. Willam found that extremely unlikely but not impossible, so, for now, he only looked at anything Dilophosaurus-sized or larger. There were many interesting possibilities from there, although Willam could not deduce much else after that. He didn't even have the slightest clue whether it would be a herbivore or carnivore. The peculiar circumstances under which he had found the egg left many gaps in the mystery. Until then, Willam was happy to theorize on what the egg could hold.

He spent the rest of his time with the _Dossier_ studying the creatures of the island. It was useful knowledge to have and just might save their lives one day. Unlike the others, Willam studied predators and prey alike. Reading was the one thing that he was actually good at, and Willam seemed to absorb the information like a patch of moss soaking up water. The creatures fascinated him, especially the ones that he had vague memories of from before. Willam was curious to find out how they survived on this primal island, and if he could use their tactics to his advantage. He would spend hours reading about strengths and weakness, likes and dislikes. The _Dossier_ was a monster of a book, but not completely finished. Disturbingly, the information seemed to dwindle away and then completely disappear near the end. Only a few blank pages marked the end of the book. No notes or words of wisdom from the author, just empty pages.

Willam glanced back up from his soup to ladle another helping. The steam drifted up to his face and he inhaled the rich scent. He had only been half paying attention to the dinner before and now tried to make sense of what he had missed. Otto had just made some jest and Joseph was laughing loudly. Sarah had finished her meal and now curled up closer to their fire, her entire body gently heaving as she relaxed. Winter had taken his share of meat and now sat next Otto while Hawk was still nipping at the Phiomia remains. Willam allowed himself to relax and enjoy this rare occasion. He was about to make a jest of his own when Winter silently rose.

The Direwolf lifted his head and growled, deep and menacing. The camp immediately fell silent. Otto was up instantly, spear in hand. The Direwolf glanced back at his master and then turned to the jungle. He barked viciously, hackles bristling and jaw snapping. Sarah lumbered to her feet with an alarmed bellow and Hawk backed away from the treeline.

"Something's wrong," Joseph said. He rose and unholstered his axe. The group listened intently, scarcely daring to breathe as they watched the dark jungle. Willam's hands trembled as he retrieved a spear from the ground. He backed away from the darkness and protectively placed himself in front of the egg. Fortunately, he was on the side of the fire opposite the jungle, with his back to the cliff. For one small eternity, the camp was entirely silent.

There was a deafening _crack_ as the wooden barrier shattered under some unseen impact. Willam craned his neck to see, but his view was blocked by the undergrowth. _Something's in here with us. Dear God._ The bush exploded in a shower of leaves and bright red berries that rolled to a stop by the fire. A huge dark blue monster burst out from the darkness and roared, sharp teeth gleaming by the light of the fire. It stood thrice Joseph's height, towering over their group like death itself. The beast swept its head across their camp and took everything in with two burning yellow pits. Willam froze when its fiery gaze swept over him.

His mind was racing faster than a Gallimimus. He was studying the beast while it did the same to them. _Carnivore, nocturnal. Large, easily twice Sarah's height._ The beast snarled and lashed its tail. _A Carnotaurus perhaps... no, no. It's far too big and those horns aren't large enough either._ The monster took a menacing step forwards. _An Allosaurus? The size certainly fits, but those only live farther inland._ The bushes rustled as three more beasts joined the first. They were only slightly smaller but far more ferocious and nearly identical to the first. The newcomers snarled and snapped, a dull pink frothing at their mouths. Some tried to lunge or charge, but the first one stopped them. It was the largest and clearly the leader as well.

 _Megalosaurus! That's what I was thinking of!_ The thought clicked and Willam immediately began recalling facts about the monsters. Unfortunately, his train of thought was interrupted as the leader snarled and tossed its head. Two of its pack mates roared in delight as they peeled away from the group and thundered off to Willam's left. Straight for Sarah.

The young Triceratops snorted in terror and tossed her head as the beasts closed in. The Megalosaurus split away from each other at the last instant and swerved to avoid Sarah's deadly horns. She bellowed and turned to cover her flank, lashing out at an attacker with her horns. The offending Megalosaurus backed away while its companion closed in from behind. _Megalosaurus. Unlike most of the other theropods, it is a primarily nocturnal creature._ The information jumped out at Willam from absolutely monster locked its iron jaws around her hind leg and crunched down hard. Sarah roared in pain and spun, head slamming into the beast. It stumbled back in a daze, only for the other one to attack from the rear. The two monsters alternated attacking and retreating, always making sure to stay on opposite sides of the young Trike.

Otto and Joseph were scrambling to aid Sarah against her attackers when the remaining two Megalosaurus turned and roared. The leader snapped at its inferior and the smaller beast charged into the camp. It rammed into Joseph who flew backward with a heavy thud. The leader tried to follow its companion but Otto barred its path. Winter stalked to his side and snarled. The Direwolf was nearly as tall as Otto but still seemed shrunken next to the huge carnivore. _Due to its nocturnal nature, Megalosaurus becomes much more formidable at night._ The Alpha roared in defiance, but Otto stood firm. The beast suddenly charged forward, gaping jaw thirsty for blood. Before Otto could react, Winter was already bounding to meet it head on. The Direwolf leapt at the last second and landed on the larger beast's back. His claws dug into rough scales as the Megalosaurus shook in fury.

Joseph had regained his footing and now stood defiantly, heavy axe in hand and Hawk at his side. The small Dilophosaurus hissed fiercely but the Megalosaurus barely seemed to notice. It glanced to the rest of the camp, noticed its packmates were busy, and growled in delight. The monster rushed at Joseph with a ferocious snarl. The burly man twisted out of the way at the last second and lashed with his axe, sinking the heavy stone blade through scales and flesh. The Megalosaurus whirled with a snarl, looking for its attacker. Hawk launched a glob of vile green spit into its right eye, disorienting the huge beast.

Everything seemed to happen at once everywhere around him. Willam turned, trying to keep track of the battle as best he could. Sarah was bleeding from a dozen gashes and still warily limping in a circle. Her attackers were only emboldened by the scent of blood and pushed on viciously, driving the poor Trike against the cliff. The Megalosaurus alpha had managed to shake Winter off and now charged at Otto. He thrust with his spear, only for it to harmlessly glance off the scaled nightmare. Otto wasn't able to pull back for a second thrust fast enough and the monster managed to lock its jaws around his shoulder. _Its primary combat tactic is to bite onto its target, then lock its jaw shut in an iron grip._

Otto choked back a scream as the monster lifted him above the ground and crunched down hard, the spear spinning out of his reach. Otto grasped his bone dagger and unsheathed it in one fluid motion. He gripped it with both hands and stabbed down desperately, plunging the blade deep into the Alpha's left eye. The monster reared back and roared in pain, dropping Otto in the process.

He hit the ground with a limp thud and grit his teeth, cradling the wounded arm. Willam could tell that it was dislocated from the grotesque angle it stuck out. Blood spurted from the gash like a red waterfall. Winter tackled the disoriented Megalosaurus and the beast staggered away under the Direwolf's weight. Willam shook himself from the daze and ran to help his injured friend.

Joseph suddenly slammed into him and the two went down in a heap. The large man grunted in pain and managed to nod an apology to Willam. The closest Megalosaurus stood over them, Joseph's axe lodged in its side. The monster was about to ram them again when Hawk suddenly leapt and slashed at its feet, her bright ruff fully extended. The Megalosaurus simply turned and swept its tail, dashing the small beast against a rock.

She cried out in pain and stumbled away. Joseph grabbed a sharp rock and pushed himself off the ground. He let loose a menacing war cry and sprinted at the monster. Willam's head spun from the collision and his vision doubled for an instant. In that brief moment of shock, he saw a battle fought by twins. Two Sarahs slumped to the ground in a bloody heap. Two Winters were rammed into the cliff by a pair of one-eyed Alphas. Two Josephs staggered away after being mauled by a fury of claws. His vision returned to normal and Willam managed to rise from the dusty ground. He brushed a hand across his forehead and felt a thin trickle of blood. Willam found his spear and snatched it back up. He scanned the carnage desperately, looking for someone, anyone, to help.

Joseph, Otto, and Sarah were all bleeding on the floor. Winter was locked in the iron grip of the alpha. Hawk was facing off against one of the beasts. _Hawk!_ The small Dilophosaurus stood protectively over Joseph, hissing with her frills extended. She seemed like a mere hatchling before the Megalosaurus, yet she didn't back down. Hawk refused to leave Joseph's side. It broke Willam's heart to see such loyal dedication in a beast. Willam scrambled to help the little creature but he was too late.

The Megalosaurus charged and closed its jaws around the Dilophosaurus. It shook its head with a savage fury, crunching down all the while. _Only larger creatures can hope to break free once Megalosaurus locks its jaw._ Hawk cried out in pain and clawed at the larger beast's snout in a vain attempt to free herself. The Megalosaurus snapped its head left to right. Willam heard something crack, a bone perhaps. He could only watch helplessly, the spear limp in his hands. _The creature then proceeds to gnaw on its prey until death._ Hawk gave one last heart-wrenching shriek. The Megalosaurus chuffed its head back and snapped its jaws closed. A severed green arm hit the ground with a thud. It was splattered with blood and the dirt drank it up eagerly, turning a crimson shade of red. The monster gulped down with a sickening crunch and Hawk was gone forever. The bloody limb was all that remained of the Dilophosaurus.

Joseph staggered to his feet in a sudden fit of strength, the rock still tightly clutched in his grip. His hide clothing was torn and thin trickles of blood ran down the vest freely. He let out a primal warcry, filled with grief, fury, and rage. "This is for Hawk you bastard!" The large man mustered all his strength and rushed at the monster. The Megalosaurus turned to face him, almost lazily. It spared him one uninterested glance and then spun, throwing all its weight into the attack. The tail slammed Joseph into a jagged boulder with a heavy crack. He managed to push himself off the rock. Joseph staggered a single step before his limp body careened into the blood-stained ground.

Willam choked back a gasp of horror. A movement from somewhere to the left caught his eye. It was the one-eyed alpha standing over Otto like a grim harbinger of death. Weiss was kneeling on the ground, his breaths coming in ragged bursts. He sported a few fresh red slashes that had cut through hide and flesh. Willam scanned the camp desperately, looking for the flash of white that would be his friend's salvation. He spotted Winter.

The Direwolf was more red than white, slumped against the cliff with dozens of bites and slashes. Winter was completely still. Willam felt himself freeze. All his friends lay dead or dying. Otto managed to lift his head enough to meet the monster's single remaining eye. The beast exhaled slowly, savouring its victory. A droplet of blood trickled down from its missing eye. The burning pit had been replaced by a blood-stained bone hilt. The monster inhaled with deep satisfaction, drawing in the scent of blood and death. The Alpha backed up and lunged forward, jaws gaping wide.

Suddenly a dark red blur rammed into it, sending the beast tumbling away. Willam scrutinized the shape carefully, trying to figure out whether it was friend or foe. He hardly recognized Sarah under all the blood and grime. Amazingly, she had managed to get up and fight off her attackers just to protect her master. The Trike bellowed in dismay and Otto managed to give her a weak pat. Willam started limping over to help but tripped and slammed into the ground. He watched as the alpha recovered and staggered to its feet. The other two now closed in from behind, the ones who had attacked Sarah before. The three Megalosaurus circled around Otto and his Trike with slow, deliberate steps.

One of them lunged and ripped into Sarah's hind leg. The beast wrenched its head back, taking off a chunk of flesh in a spray of bright red blood. Another drove in from the side and tore into the poor Trike's flank. _Unlike most of the other theropods, it is primarily a nocturnal creature._ Sarah bellowed in agony and slumped to the floor. The alpha roared and went for her neck. She shook her head from side to side, trying to shake off her attackers. The one-eyed Megalosaurus crunched down hard. Willam heard a deafening snap. Sarah's entire body trembled in dying spasms. She gave one last mournful bellow before going completely limp. Willam watched the life drain out of her eyes.

The fourth Megalosaurus now charged in at the scent of fresh blood. The closest one snapped at it with a ferocious snarl and the newcomer growled right back. The other finally grudgingly parted to let it get at the kill. The pack of night-demons tore into the body like feral hounds. _As dawn approaches, Megalosaurus begins looking for a secluded place to spend the day sleeping in relative safety._ The camp was drenched in blood. _It is primarily a nocturnal creature._ Otto had managed to drag himself away and now watched in horror as they devoured the Triceratops. _As dawn approaches..._

Willam knew what he had to do. He stumbled to his feet with rigid determination. _As dawn approaches..._ He snatched a small log off the floor. None of the monsters had noticed him yet. Willam staggered to the fire and braced himself against a rock. _The very rock I sat on earlier tonight,_ he thought. _When we were celebrating. Before the carnage. Before this._ Willam gripped the log with icy fingers. _Dawn approaches..._

He thrust the wood into the fire and held it there. Flaming orange tongues licked at his arm, but Willam hardly felt anything. _Dawn approaches..._ Someone was screaming. Willam supposed it was himself. He yanked the log back out from the fire and a thin coat of flames clung to the wood. _Please, please let it hold. Let the fire hold._ The four Megalosaurus were still tearing into Sarah's corpse. She was slumped over a trampled mound of dry grass. _An unfinished meal perhaps. It doesn't matter what it was so long as the fire holds._ The grass was soaked with blood and yet a small part of him still clung to the hope that it would light. _Please. Please let the fire hold._ Willam thrust his arm back and threw the burning log. _Dawn..._

It bounced off a Megalosaurus and landed by the grass pile with a soft thud. The afflicted monster whirled around and snapped at him. It took a menacing step forward and roared. A thin trail of smoke rose from by its feet. The Megalosaurus was about to charge at Willam when it realized the burning log. Small embers leapt from wood to grass. _Please..._ Willam stared at the Megalosaurus calmly, praying that the pile would catch fire. The mound suddenly burst into flames. The whole pack reared back in alarm, the alpha included. The fire caught onto a few random tufts of grass nearby and the brutes retreated with startled roars.

Sarah's corpse started to smolder and a heavy grey cloud of smoke rose from the heat. Flames raced along the ground, leaping, consuming, burning. A section of the wooden palisade caught fire. Flames jumped and logs crackled. The fire spread. It raced along the wooden spikes that had once been their barrier. The Megalosaurus snarled uneasily and clustered together. William had just trapped them all in a ring of fire.

One of the Megalosaurus panicked and charged right into the flames, crashing through wood and snarling in pain. The beast broke free of the deathtrap and fled into the jungle. Sparks exploded from the barrier and trailed after the fleeing monster like a cape of fire. The other three Megalosaurus quickly followed their companion, charging through the fiery wall. Small flames caught onto the waxy jungle leaves and patchy grey moss.

A fire burst to life on a dead tree. It jumped onto a neighbouring bush and that soon took fire as well. The flames spread. Green jungle grass transformed into swaying orange whiskers. Vibrant ferns curled into shriveled black husks. The jungle was on fire. Otto staggered to his feet, clutching his wound. He looked at what remained of Sarah with eyes full of grief. His gaze turned to Winter, limp by the cliff. Otto choked back a sob as he surveyed the damage.

"Otto!" Willam found his voice. "We need to get out! The fire!" He rasped.

Smoke was gathering in a dense cloud overhead. Willam was sweating underneath the hide and he thought he could feel the fire still eating away at his arm. An alarmed glance revealed it was only his imagination. Otto seemed to regain his senses and nodded, though he looked lost. There was a long wooden board that had not caught fire. _Winter and Joseph... if they're even still alive. We have to help them._ Willam hobbled over to the fallen man and hooked his arms under Joseph's. Willam pulled with all his might, straining to move Joseph's immense bulk. It was like dragging a boulder. Otto saw what he was doing and came to help. They dragged the fallen man on the plank and moved to get Winter.

The Direwolf was even heavier than Joseph. Willam coughed as hazy fumes drifted into his lungs. He pulled the hide over his mouth and gestured for Otto to do the same. Weiss snatched a waterskin, the _Dossier_ , two bows and a handful of arrows. Everything else was too far away to save. They each took an end of the board and pulled. Willam was weak and old. Otto was injured and dazed. They made a poor team but still managed to drag the plank to the opening that the Megalosaurus pack had made. Willam's vision danced and he lurched forward. _Just a bit more and we're clear. Hold out a bit longer._ He was coughing. Choking really. The smoke gathered heavily around his head. Willam stumbled and his end of the plank went limp. He couldn't go any further. Willam braced himself for a fiery death but noticed only darkness ahead. By some miracle, they had made it out.

Willam didn't know whether he ought to laugh or cry. He was too exhausted to care. A gust of wind buffeted his face, scattering the smog. Willam inhaled deeply, struggling to catch his breath. The air here was still smoky, though far less dense than the camp. They were in the plains now, safe for the moment. _The camp… I forgot something,_ Willam realized with horror. _The egg. God... I forgot the egg._ He was up immediately, hobbling back into the fire.

"Are you completely mad? What are you doing?" Otto rasped. "Get back here!"

Willam shook his head. "The egg..." he managed to croak. Weiss cursed. There was movement from behind Willam and then Otto was next to him. The other man offered a shoulder to lean on and Willam took it gracefully. They limped back into the blaze together.

Willam scanned the fire desperately, looking for a splash of blue on grey. It took him a moment to spot the egg. It nearly blended into the smoke. "There," he pointed. The egg was laying on its side, gently rocking in the heat. Willam rushed in and hauled it over. Pain flared in his palms as they drank the heat. Otto moved to help and grunted in pain as he took the egg. They stumbled away together, drowning in the smoke.

Willam choked and coughed. His throat felt like a raw pulp, and black spots danced across his vision. He kept putting one foot in front of the other. A tinge of grey bordered his sight and his ears rang painfully. Willam saw the wooden plank up ahead. He shuddered in relief and slumped to his knees. The egg went tumbling out of his grasp and rolled ahead. Willam was suffocating. He felt his legs go out beneath him and then he was falling, falling...

The last thing Willam saw was his precious egg, nearly indistinguishable from their hazy surroundings. The world slanted sideways as he fell. A misty grey fog shrouded his vision, blanketing the world with a twilight cloak. And then there was nothing but darkness.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Sorry this one was bit late. It was more difficult than I initially thought to incorporate thought fragments between actions while making sure everything still made sense. And I had to ensure that everything was clear, otherwise the chapter would have far less of an impact on the reader. I just hope the wait was worth it!**

 **So anyways. Yeah... bloody chapter. To be fair though, I foreshadowed this all the way back in chapter 2 when Otto found the Dossier.**

 **haydenunstopable, your wish has been granted (sorta). Conveniently, I already had the feast planned. And thanks for the recipe suggestion, it was used in this chapter with only a slight modification (the berries getting taken out)**

 **RedLightningD608, I agree with you, when the egg hatches it certainly will be interesting. The skeleton was indeed a Titanosaur and I'm glad you picked up on that. Thanks for the continued support!**

 **Tall-Gothic-Guy, thank you for the continued support and kind words. I'm glad you've decided to publish your story and I wish you good luck with that. I was rather busy this week, but I'll definitely make sure to check it out when I have the time.**

 **DevoutRelic, your pacing advice has been taken, albeit in a rather morbid way. We now have less characters and more time to develope the current ones. The skeleton was indeed a Titanosaur and I'm glad you were able to pick up on that. I can confirm that all characters will be from medieval times. We won't have some super overpowed guy in full Tek running around while our group is stuck with bows and arrows. My studies have indeed gone well, and I thank you for the continued support you have shown me both in life and the story.**

 **King Endercreeper, thank you for the kind words and I completely agree with you about ARK's specimen implant system. I wanted my world to have a more primal feel and I'm glad you enjoy that choice as well. Thanks for the support and I hope you found this chapter to your liking.**

 **DragonGirl345, thank you for the compliment and yes, the skeleton was indeed a Titanosaur. I'm glad you were able to pick up on that.**

 **Word of warning, I definately won't be able to finish the next chapter on time. It is one of my personal favourites, and I hope the wait will be worth it. Anyways, special thanks to TheJaiganticBridge for doing the Megalosaurus research, and to haydenunstobable for the recipe suggestion. If anyone else has a recipe they would like to see in my story, make sure to leave a comment or PM me and I'll do my best to incorporate it.**

 **Thanks for taking the time to check out my first fanfiction, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I will try my best to upload every Friday. Feel free to comment, ask question or criticize my story, review is always welcome. And i** **f you like what you saw, make sure to check out the other ARK: Survival Evolved fanfictions out there. Have a great rest of your day or night.**

 **-DaRumpyBurr**


	9. Otto V

**Warning: blood and gore, depression, thoughts of suicide**

* * *

 **Otto V**

* * *

The world was a blanket of white. Pure, simple white. Like the colour of the heavens perhaps, or maybe the gleam of the sun. But _he_ knew different. It was the colour of snow. It was _his_ colour, it always had been. From the very moment he had emerged into the world; whining, mewling and pawing helplessly at the air. Only a sparse layer of white had covered him back then, but it was always his colour. His siblings had been darker; shades of grey and black that had lightened as they grew. But not him. Not Winter.

His first memories were only snippets of sound, flashes of colour, and whiffs of strange scents. In those first few hazy days, Winter could barely tell the difference between day and night; waking and sleeping. Everything had been shrouded in a veil of misty white. His eyes had been completely closed, save for a tiny sliver of colour through which he viewed the world. Of his siblings he was the first to see. The first to come out of their mother's womb, the first to stand, the first to walk, the first to explore. He was always the first.

They were five pups in all; shades of black, grey and white. Two brothers and three sisters born in the spring, the season of life and birth. Winter had loved his siblings dearly, and remembered their faces as well as his own. There had been his timid little sister, dark as a shadow; his brave light-grey sister, kind and caring; his lean grey brother, fierce and loyal; and his smallest sister, sweet and playful with a coat of burnished silver.

They would cuddle together for warmth on cold nights and romp around the den with each other during the day. The pups would play-fight when they got bored and lie down in a heap afterwards when they were all tired. Winter had been the largest of his siblings and easily overpowered them during their vigorous bouts of roughhousing. He was always sure to never harm his siblings, during play-fights or otherwise. Winter's brother had been known to nip and scratch whenever he wanted something that he didn't have. Whether it was a spot to nurse off their mother or a new bone to play with, Winter's brother had always been a wild pup.

These vicious habits had eventually been abolished by their mother after she had found out. A few harsh nips and growls had been enough to permanently end his unacceptable behaviour. Winter had always respected and looked up to his mother. She was a sleek silvery-grey Direwolf, the alpha female of their pack he would later learn. She had been stern when it was called for, but otherwise there had never been doubts of her pure and unconditional love. Winter's mother had been the largest influence on his early life. Ever since their birth, she had always been there to feed and nurture the pups.

In fact, Winter's mother had scarcely left the den at all during those first few weeks. Indeed, she had been with the pups day and night, only leaving long enough to feed on kills made by the rest of the pack. Winter and his siblings had scarcely seen any other Direwolves during those first few stages of their lives. They might occasionally hear a bark here or a howl there, but otherwise made no contact with the other wolves of their pack. Early life had been nothing but fun and carefree days; rolling around with his brother and sisters, suckling on sweet warm milk, and dozing in a sea of soft warm fur. Winter would always look back on those days fondly, with maybe just a bit of pity for himself.

Things had changed after his first real taste of meat. Winter and his siblings had just barely turned two weeks old. They had developed rows of small but sharp teeth lining their mouths, although none of them were quite sure what they were for.

Up until his mother's return, it had been a day just like any other. The pups had been roughhousing in the den; rolling, jumping and pouncing on one another with reckless abandon. Needless to say, such vigorous activity required large amounts of energy, and the pups had been absolutely exhausted afterwards. That was when their mother returned. She had been known to leave the den longer and more frequently as the pups grew, and by now they were used to her periodic absences. Yet they still crowded around her all the same, each vying for a spot to nurse upon her sweet, warm milk. Instead, Winter's mother had growled and forced them all away. That was when he had noticed the strange red blob dangling from between her jaws.

It was a choice portion of Megaloceros from a fresh kill; a rare treat that only a handful of their pack could indulge in. Winter had sniffed at it suspiciously as he slowly approached, ready to dart away at any moment. His mother dropped it on the floor with a wet _plop,_ startling the curious pup. Winter had jumped away in fright, growling at the sudden movement. He paused apprehensively, needle sharp teeth bared in a snarl. The meat didn't budge. Winter approached again, more slowly this time. He froze within biting distance, sizing up this strange foe. Nothing happened so he pressed his nose against the wet blob and sniffed inquisitively.

Winter was met by a rich, mouthwatering scent. His stomach rumbled in anticipation and he subconsciously growled in delight. He could sense his siblings approaching from behind, drawn in by curiosity. Winter gave the strange new object a few more whiffs before his tongue flicked out and brushed against the slick red surface. It tasted sweet. Far sweeter than his mother's milk. Winter gave it a cautious nip and tore off a shred with his new teeth. They cut through the soft red pulp easily, as if built for the sole purpose of slicing through flesh. Winter tossed his head back and devoured the morsel.

It tasted better than anything in the world. The pup snarled in pure ecstasy, overjoyed by his new discovery. Winter immediately tore into the red blob again, his teeth carving out an even bigger chunk. His siblings closed in, emboldened by his delighted reaction. Winter's light-grey sister was the first to join in, always the bravest of the bunch. She stalked over confidently and took a spot next to him. His sister ripped off a generous portion with a smooth tug of her head. The meat was gone in no time at all. Winter's brother pounced and tore off a chunk with a savage wrench, shaking his head from side to side as he liberated the prize. His dark-haired sister slid in timidly, quiet as a shadow. She nipped at the meat and gently tugged a sliver off.

Every single one of the pups was eagerly tearing away at the meat. Every pup save for Winter's smallest sister. She whined and scampered over to their mother, who was proudly watching from the side. The silver pup rubbed against the large Direwolf, begging to be fed. She closed in towards a teat, only for their mother to snarl and back away. Winter's sister tried once more, approaching more slowly this time. The alpha female bared her teeth and turned away. The pup whined and rolled over, pawing helplessly at the air. Winter was surprised. His mother had never been able to refuse his smallest sister before.

She was a sweet and well-mannered pup who never caused any trouble. Winter enjoyed her company the most out of all his siblings, and sought her presence on a regular basis. She was the most playful of the litter, and seemed to be a fluffy ball of pure energy. Winter's sister had the exact same silver coat as their mother, who seemed to favour her over the other pups. When the two silver Direwolves curled up together it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

Winter barked at his sister, who only remained sprawled on the dusty floor, still downcast after the refusal. He bounded over cheerfully with a chunk of meat in his mouth. Winter nudged his sister gently, trying to prompt a response. She whined and rolled over, turning her back against him. Winter growled softly and stalked over to the other side, pressing his face against hers. He dropped the meat on the floor and gave it a gentle shove toward the silver pup.

She perked up at the scent, if only slightly. Winter gave the morsel another gentle nudge and seemed to finally gain his sister's attention. She sniffed at the meat curiously and rose to her feet. The silver pup circled the red blob a few times before pouncing and rolling to a stop, the meat firmly pinned beneath her paws. She gave it a suspicious lick and immediately barked in delight. Winter wagged his tail with excitement as his sister reacted to the delicious meat. She closed her teeth around the slick red morsel and swallowed with a satisfied growl. The silver pup looked to Winter for more.

He scampered back over to the rapidly disappearing slab of meat and ripped off a large chunk for them to share. Winter dragged his prize back to the corner and shared it with his sister. She rubbed against him affectionately before returning to the meal.

Winter didn't hesitate jumping in. After all, he wasn't going to let his sister have _all_ the fun.

* * *

The snowy white pup growled anxiously as he stalked down the length of gloomy tunnel. Winter's mother was sniffing out the way ahead while his siblings followed in a loose half circle behind. The other pups picked their way through slowly and cautiously, making their disapproval known through nervous growls. Winter could share in their sentiment. He had come to love the den, their own private refuge from the world, but now they were leaving the safety of its musky darkness. His mother had corralled them all together and guided them towards the only exit, a gentle ramp that sloped upwards into the unknown. Winter wanted nothing more than to stay in the den forever, but he knew there was nothing he could do about it. The pups were venturing into the world, whether they wanted to or not.

They were just over three weeks old now, significantly larger and stronger than just mere days ago. Winter had grown rapidly after his first taste of meat. He was nearly twice the size of his silver sister and easily larger than the others. Their mother had patiently overseen every phase of their growth and now seemed eager to show them the world. She scuffled about in the darkness, turning occasionally to make sure they were still following. Winter padded along with an equal mix of terror and excitement.

He was curious to know what the outside world held, but frightened at the prospect of leaving the den. Winter paused abruptly in the middle of the tunnel. There was a soft blue glow emanating from up ahead. He shook himself from the daze and picked up the pace, bounding ahead curiously. The tunnel was getting colder as they progressed. Not unbearable, but still far cooler than what Winter was normally used to. There was a strange noise too; a thin, piercing cry that swirled and shrieked outside. It was almost like the howls of the far-off Direwolves that Winter occasionally heard from the den, though more ghostly. More otherworldly.

They were nearing the exit now. Winter's mother blocked most of his view, but he could still see specks of blue and white swirling up ahead. The strange howl grew louder and stronger as they progressed. Winter growled in alarm as his mother disappeared around the corner. He scampered after the silver alpha frantically, afraid that he would lose her forever. The other pups followed his lead and darted down the tunnel, hard on his trail. There was a sudden flash of white and then Winter was free.

A strong gust of wind bowled into the white pup, nearly knocking him flat on the ground. Winter grit his teeth and stood firm while the wind tugged at his fur, howling like some ghostly wolf. It was a queer feeling, being pushed by something that wasn't there. Winter squinted into the glaring light. It took his eyes a moment to adjust for the sudden change of young pup backed away in surprise when his vision finally cleared.

He was bombarded with a sea of colour. Towering sentinels that boasted every shade of green. A bright blue sky laced with wispy golden clouds. A rugged cliff-face composed of greys, blacks and blues. Shifting cobalt water that snaked along a muddy brown riverbank. Rusty orange needles that littered the forest floor. And the fluffy white substance that blanketed everywhere in between.

His paws sank into something cold yet comforting. It was bright white, just like his fur. _Snow_. Winter's terror vanished in an instant, replaced by delirious joy as he leapt and rolled, scattering the fluffy white to the winds. He dove into snowbanks and kicked up clouds of powdery white dust. Winter was at home. His siblings cautiously emerged from the dark tunnel, heads swiveling as they took everything in. The silver alpha female perched on a nearby rock, watching with motherly approval. Winter yipped and barked, inviting the other pups to play with him. No sooner did he issue the challenge than he heard a deep growl from behind.

Winter spun around, teeth bared in a snarl. He was met by a large female Direwolf with a coat of cloudy grey fur. The white pup leapt away in fright, backing toward the safety of his mother. The silver alpha stalked up behind the pup and gently nudged him forward with her snout. Winter froze. The strange wolf loomed over him like a shaggy grey cloud. Then, surprisingly, she bowed. The grey Direwolf pressed her ears against her head as she scraped down, bringing herself level with Winter. He blinked in surprise. The other wolf rose again to face his mother and Winter took the opportunity to escape.

He bounded over to his siblings who were watching the exchange with rigid fascination. The strange wolf was large and old. She was nearly a head taller than their mother, and had a shaggy grey coat laced with sharp white streaks, marks that reflected her age. Yet despite her size, the old she-wolf flattened her ears, lowered her head, and tucked her tail between her legs. Winter's mother padded forward until the two Direwolves were nearly face to face. The strange wolf crouched down low to gently nip the silver alpha's lower jaw. Winter's mother inclined her head in approval. She then arched her neck and bit the top of the other wolf's nose. The silver alpha turned around and stalked back to the pups, the old grey Direwolf following close behind.

Winter tilted his head curiously. The exchange seemed to have been an assertion of dominance. His mother was very clearly the higher ranking wolf, as evident through her confident actions. The cloudy grey Direwolf, although larger and older, was obviously the subordinate. Winter noted the interchange with fascination in the case that he should ever have to perform a similar ritual. A quick sideways glance revealed that his siblings were doing likewise. A soft growl stirred Winter from his thoughts.

His mother stood before the pups and inclined her head toward the newcomer. Winter and his siblings gave the old she-wolf a few curious sniffs to get acquainted. The cloudy grey Direwolf did likewise and growled in approval. Winter was about to try imitating the earlier exchange when the meeting was abruptly interrupted by a chorus of howls and barks.

The two grown Direwolves perked up at the sound, heads swivelling across the river that ran parallel to the den. Winter followed their gaze to see a shifting mass of fur on the other bank; musky greys, dark blacks, muddy browns and just a splash of snowy white, like his own. It was the pack returning. For all of his life, Winter had only known five faces apart from his own. Now he was being blasted with a wealth of new information. New sights, new protocols, new customs, and new faces. Winter was nearly overwhelmed by the fresh wave of knowledge.

His mother barked, loud and sharp. A long ululating howl answered from the other side. It was joined by a second, then a third. Soon the entire pack was baying at the heavens. Winter's mother and the old grey Direwolf threw their heads back and howled in response. Winter tried to imitate the gesture, but his voice came out too sharp and thin. His cry was easily drowned out in the noise. The Direwolf pack howled until the entire world was filled with their cries.

With a single glance, Winter could discern that there had to be a dozen at the least, not counting any of the Direwolves on their side of the river. A few distinctive wolves stood out from the rest; a tall dark-grey Direwolf that carried himself with an air of confidence; a muddy brown wolf that slunk around the rear of the pack, her head held low to the ground; two golden twins that padded along side by side; a pitch black she-wolf, larger than all the females and most of the males; a shaggy and malnourished slate-grey Direwolf that prowled at the back, tail tucked between his legs. And the most distinguishable of all; a massive white Direwolf that presided at the head of the pack, tail raised high. He had the exact same snowy coat as Winter himself, and seemed to simply radiate authority. The other wolves held their heads low before him, and never dared to cross his path.

The huge white Direwolf had something tucked in his mouth, _meat_ , Winter realized. The great white wolf began to accelerate as he neared the riverbank, paws digging into the frozen mud for traction. He kept bounding until the very edge. With a harsh shove against the riverbank, the huge Direwolf vaulted off the ground toward their side of the river. Winter watched in awe as the huge wolf nearly cleared the river in a single bound, splashing to a stop in the shallows. He then padded onto their bank, pristine white fur slick with water.

Winter's mother bounded over to meet the massive Direwolf. She crouched down low and lovingly bit his lower jaw. What surprised Winter was that instead of like before, where the higher ranking wolf would bite the subordinate's nose, the huge white Direwolf simply nuzzled his mother affectionately. This could only mean one thing, the pup realized. This huge white Direwolf was his father.

Winter was both a little intimidated and impressed by the great white Direwolf. He scampered behind his mother and peeked at his father cautiously. The huge wolf broke away from the greeting as he noticed the pup. He stalked over curiously, the meat still dangling from between his jaws. Winter froze as the huge wolf inspected him. The pup stood perfectly, absolutely still. His father's eyes gleamed with amusement at the sight. The huge wolf growled in a friendly manner, low and soft. Winter managed to choke out a high-pitched yap in response. His father dropped the meat on the floor and gave it an inviting shove with his snout.

Winter approached slowly. He glanced up at his father, who was studying the pup curiously, waiting to see what he would do next. Winter darted forward and took ahold of the meat in his jaws. He shook his head viciously, freeing a large chunk for himself. The white pup backed up quickly and dropped his piece on the frozen ground. His father gave a stout bark and Winter saw something like approval in his eyes. Upon seeing this, the other pups rushed in and began tearing at the meat, trying to claim pieces for themselves. Winter's silver sister crept behind him meekly. He tore off a chunk from his own piece and pushed it to her. She rubbed against him affectionately with a delighted yip. Winter was about to set into his meal when he noticed the other Direwolves.

Some had tried to leap across the river like his father, although with little success. Most were lucky if they could get halfway across and paddle the rest of the way. Some barely even cleared the shallows of the opposite bank at all. Winter saw a Direwolf that had almost been able to replicate his father perfectly. It was the same dark grey male that he had noticed earlier, the tall confident one. Winter watched as the tall Direwolf padded over to his father. He crouched down and flattened his ears, making himself seem much smaller than before. Winter's father nipped his subordinate on the nose. The grey wolf stayed crouched until the superior one inclined his head, granting permission to rise.

More of the Direwolves were now returning from the opposite bank. Many trudged ashore dripping wet, completely soaked from paddling across the icy river. Winter saw the golden twins scamper up the shore; first to his father, then the tall grey male. The pair crouched down low in both occasions, ears tucked against their heads and tails between their legs. The twins were followed by many more wolves. Every single one would pay tribute, first to Winter's father and then the tall grey Direwolf by his side. Last of all the wolves came the malnourished slate-grey male, soaking wet fur pressed close to his skinny frame.

He pulled up before Winter's father and scraped low to the frozen ground, every limb pressed close to his body. He then made a few rounds across the pack, visiting every other Direwolf in turn. Each time he would bow and scrape, ears pressed against his head and tail tucked between his legs. Winter could easily tell this was the lowest wolf in their pack, the omega male. He had also figured out where some of the other Direwolves sat in the hierarchy.

The tall grey wolf ranked higher than every single male except for Winter's father. He was the beta male. Similarly, the old cloudy grey she-wolf was ranked higher than every other female save for Winter's mother. The beta female, Winter inferred. There were countless mid-ranking wolves, and Winter was still unsure of their positions. Many of the middle wolves would bow before others, yet get bowed _to_ by other wolves still. It was a confusing affair, and the Winter couldn't keep track of everything just yet.

If there was one good quality the omega wolves shared, it was that Winter could tell their positions easily. The slate-grey male and muddy brown female always carried themselves with downcast postures. They would slink about the area, bowing before every single other wolf. Winter was pretty sure that even _he_ , a three-week old pup, was higher ranking than either of them. However, the two omega wolves weren't the only ones whose positions were easy to discern.

On the opposite side of the hierarchy were his parents. His father was the alpha male. If it hadn't been clear enough upon first glance, Winter was now completely sure. Every single wolf in the pack bowed before his father. None of them so much as stood without his consent, and none dared to cross his path. Winter's father was the ultimate authority, and commanded the pack through both fear and respect. His mother was the alpha female, yet no less impressive. Similarly to his father, Winter's mother ruled over the pack, albeit only the female half.

The white pup returned from his thoughts to the meal before him. Many of the Direwolves were now just milling about; play-fighting, socializing, relaxing or feeding on leftovers that had been brought home from the kill. A few had sniffed at the pups curiously, but warning growls from the huge white alpha had sent them scurrying away with haste. Winter barely even noticed when the meat was all gone. He had been too immersed in watching the other wolves with the curiosity that only a young pup possessed. Winter wanted to soak up as much information as possible. Seeing so many fresh faces had added a whole new layer to his life.

Winter was shifted from his observations by an insistent tug. It was his mother looming above him, nudging him with her snout. Winter yapped and curled up again, only for his mother to repeat the motion. He grudgingly rose and padded over to the silver alpha. She rounded up his siblings and shepherded the pups back into the den, some more willing than others. Winter wanted nothing more than to stay outside and watch the other wolves, but his mother was unrelenting. One by one, the pups were forced back into the den.

Winter sulked around afterward, perking up with every distant bark or growl. Some of his siblings were just as eager to return outside, and the pups spent the rest of the day at play. It was just a matter of time, Winter knew. Their mother certainly couldn't keep them cooped up forever, and he would have many more chances to return outside later. Until then, Winter would just have to be content playing with his siblings.

* * *

Weeks flew by. As they grew, the pups ventured outside longer and more frequently until eventually, they left the den altogether. Winter slowly got acquainted with every member of the pack, from his mighty father to the cowardly omega. The tall grey beta wolf was a kind and caring stepfather to the pups when their real father was away. He would often supervise Winter and his siblings while they played, ensuring none them ended up in harm's way. The golden male was often the cheerful instigator of play, always mischievous and entertaining. He enjoyed leading the pups on short expeditions into the wilderness, where everything was _always_ exciting

His twin was the polar opposite; a calm and collected she-wolf that would observe everything from the sidelines. She wasn't any less adventurous though, and the golden female would regularly join the pups while they explored the wilderness. The old beta female was of a grandmotherly sort. She would watch over the pups with aged but alert eyes. If there was trouble nearby, she would usually be the first to know. The beta wasn't one for play, yet she was known to occasionally let the pups romp around on her large frame. She seemed to enjoy their company well enough, and Winter saw the old she-wolf as a second mother.

His real mother was easily their most frequent guardian. Along with their father, the two alpha Direwolves spent the most time with the pups. Winter's mother was often more kind and caring, gently guiding Winter and his siblings through life. Their father was more easygoing and playful, but only around the pups. It was a side of the great white alpha that Winter rarely saw, and one that he never showed to any of their packmates.

Some of the other Direwolves barely socialized with the pups at all. The two omegas never got anywhere close to Winter or his siblings for fear of incurring his father's wrath. They were boring wolves and he was better off without their company, Winter decided. The omegas would spend most of their time curled up under an unimposing tree or rock, trying to make themselves as inconspicuous as possible. The trick didn't work as often as they liked, and the two lowly Direwolves were regularly harassed by the rest of the pack.

Out of all the new wolves, Winter's siblings were still his favourite playmates. One of the first things he had discovered was that there weren't any other pups. Only the alpha male and female were allowed to mate, resulting in only a single litter every year. There were still other wolves close to their age though. Indeed, the massive pitch black she-wolf had been the offspring of a previous litter. She had chosen to stay with the pack instead of finding a new one, much to the disapproval of their parents. The large black wolf was kind and protective of her younger siblings. Winter found the resemblance between his quiet sister and the older one strangely uncanny.

The pack varied greatly in backgrounds and upbringings. Most of the wolves were from other packs, although like his older sister, a small amount had been from previous litters. Their pack was by far the largest as well, Winter discovered. During some days they could hear other wolves far off in the distance. The two packs would then take turns howling, a way to determine their respective numbers. The wolves would call out one by one, from alpha to omega, highest to lowest. Winter's pack had nineteen Direwolves in total, whereas other packs only had five or six.

The abnormal size of their group meant more food to be consumed, and more land to acquire that food. Their territory had to be patrolled and defended from regular outside excursions; ferocious packs of Hyaenodon, lone Sabercats, vicious Purlovia, ravenous Daeodon and even the occasional Direbear. Winter had seen all sorts of beasts invade their territory, and every single time they had been driven away.

Their territory was a vast stretch of land that followed the river as it meandered between mountains, hills, plains and forests. With such a large amount of land, there were almost always wolves out patrolling. Their warning calls could be heard from surprisingly far away. Whenever a beast was caught infringing on their turf, the pack rushed out to meet them in force. Winter and his siblings were often brought along to learn. They would observe from the sidelines under the watchful eye of a trusted elder, never taking part in the skirmishes.

Winter had been three months old when he saw a Direwolf die for the first time. . . closely followed by a second, then a third. The pack had traveled to the outskirts of their territory in response to a Direbear incursion. It had been all the way up in the far north where the ground was always covered by snow. The offending beast had been absolutely enormous; a mountain of muscle and shaggy brown fur, a jaw like a boulder, and heavy limbs as thick as trees. Winter trembled whenever he recalled the titan. On all fours, the Direbear stood thrice his father's height. Rearing up, it had towered above the alpha five times over.

Yet despite the beast's impressive physique, the pack hadn't backed down. Winter had watched with pride as Direwolves closed in from all sides, leaping, snarling and snapping. They twisted away whenever the titan lashed out, and danced back in wherever there was an opening. The wolves had used hit and run tactics; only staying close enough to slash or snap and then retreating before the bear could react. The boldest Direwolves had slashed at its face, trying to claw out the monster's eyes. Most had harried its flank with tooth and claw while others had clung to its great shaggy back.

The bear would soak up every wound easily. Blood stained its dark brown coat, yet Winter doubted the Direbear felt any pain. It seemed to have an endless supply of stamina; roaring, swiping, leaping, snapping and charging at Direwolves with reckless abandon. The pups watched as the pack got worn down, attacks coming slower and less often. It was in that moment that Winter had witnessed the first casualty.

A short, tawny brown Direwolf swerved away too slowly. The monster's paw slammed it against a snow bank and Winter heard a loud _crack_. The wolf lay dazed in the snow, either too wounded or too disoriented to flee. The bear was on it in an instant. A landslide of fur and flesh slammed down on the poor creature, dashing it against the ice-hard ground. Winter only saw a red pulp in the snow when the Direbear rolled away. The death of their comrade only bolstered the remaining wolves. Fur flashed as a sea of brown, black and grey careened into the living mountain. The bear shook its mighty frame, dislodging wolves and snow alike from its heavy fur coat.

The Direwolves retreated a few paces, forming a loose ring around the behemoth. Winter saw his father give the cry to attack and the pack swarmed the bear again. This time it was ready. The titan rushed forward to meet a light-grey Direwolf head-on, cavernous mouth gaping wide. The wolf was too slow to react. Heavy jaws snapped together with a sickening _crunch_ and the headless body crashed into the ground, leaving a bright red streak in the snow.

The bear whirled and rammed another wolf into the ground, heavy paws ripping through fur and flesh. The wounded Direwolf howled in pain, stout and sharp. She tried to limp away, only to be mercilessly hammered down by the monstrous bear. The titan bellowed and savaged the unlucky wolf into a red smear. Blood spurted everywhere as the Direbear reared up on its hind legs and roared, issuing a challenge to all the survivors.

The remaining Direwolves darted away, wisely keeping their distance from the massive beast. Winter's father barked a few times and the pack changed tactics again. This time, only wolves from the flanks and rear would attack. When the bear turned to retaliate, the other side would rush forward.

This went on for some time, but the Direbear was eventually worn down. Blood spurted freely from its wounds beyond count, and there was a pronounced limp in the monster's gait. When it finally had enough, the massive beast roared one last time and fled. Some of the more courageous wolves trailed after it for a while, snapping at the monster's vast hindquarters for good measure. They eventually turned back and rejoined the exhausted pack for the long march home.

The repercussion of the battle was unacceptable. Three dead. The rest with injuries ranging from heavy gashes to broken bones. Only the pups and the old beta female, who had been watching them, walked away from the skirmish free of harm. The Direwolf pack must have made a droll spectacle that day; a procession of wounded beasts limping home, still unsure whether they had just won or lost.

The aftermath of the battle taught Winter a few important lessons. Never go out alone. Never stray far from the pack. Avoid Direbears at all costs. It took the pack a few months to fully recover. Winter had more opportunities to explore and learn during that slow phase of recuperation. The juvenile Direwolf always made sure to stay within a few minutes of the pack, should trouble ever arise. Regular patrols and scent markings meant the wolves would know if invaders were on their territory, but it was still better to be safe than sorry.

As soon as they noticed his absence, Winter's siblings would join him on the expeditions. They too were bored, with nothing better to do than lay around the camp. Exploration meant adventure, and adventure meant fun. The juvenile Direwolves would get into all sorts of mischief together. Winter recalled one instance when they had accidentally angered a Wooly Rhinoceros.

The Direwolves had been roughhousing in a seemingly empty field when all of a sudden, a massive lump of snow had risen from the ground. The shaggy beast had flared its nostrils and charged at the alarmed wolves, furious at having been disrupted from its slumber. Luckily, quick thinking and a dumb attacker had left the Wooly Rhinoceros splashing at the bottom of an ice-covered lake. Perhaps the beast would have lived if it had only noticed the ice cracking beneath its heavy bulk.

The short chase had left the young wolves exhilarated and eager for more. Needless to say, countless mishaps had followed. The juvenile Direwolves especially enjoyed startling herds of Megaloceros, or cornering lone Hyaenodons. Of course, none of them actually did any killing just yet. The young wolves were new and inexperienced. For all of their play-fighting, none had ever hunted or fought in a real battle. However, all of that changed when they were seven months old.

Their father had decided that Winter and his siblings were ready to join the hunt. The great white alpha led the group northwest, where the Megaloceros herds were known to graze. They were joined by a few experienced hunters, including the tall beta and the golden twins. Winter remembered every detail of his first hunt so clearly, both for the triumph and tragedy that followed.

At seven months old, the adolescent Direwolves were beginning to look like adults. Their jaws thickened into heavy, bone-crushing tools of destruction. Their bodies grew lean and muscular, all the better to chase down prey. Among other things, they had learned invaluable lessons from all the hunting trips they had been brought along for in the past. By all means, the young Direwolves looked ready to hunt. They had the bodies of grown hunters. . . yet the minds of playful pups. Looking back on the event, Winter wished his father had waited until they were a bit older to include them on the hunt.

The wolves had been prowling downwind of the herd as to remain undetected by their prey. They scanned the Megaloceros with predatory eyes, looking for weakness in the vast herd. Winter had seen the pack doing this many times before and knew exactly what to look out for. His eyes immediately locked onto a large greying buck with a slight limp in its gait. The beast was huge, although stiff from age and nearly blind in one eye. Winter growled and tossed his head, alerting the hunters of the old Megaloceros. The alpha followed his gaze, saw the buck, and snarled in approval to confirm their target. Winter swelled with pride at having discovered their quarry first.

The great white alpha growled, low and deep. The hunters peeled off to corner their prey. Winter darted to the right, padding behind huge boulders and heaps of stone to remain unseen. His silver sister followed closely, sticking to the shadows. The two Direwolves loped up far to the right, flanking the herd to cut off their escape. Winter heard an alarmed snort as a Megaloceros picked up their scent. A sharp howl pierced the air as Winter's father signaled for the attack to begin. Winter and his sister exploded from their cover, paws kicking up clouds of dust as they loped for the startled herd.

The two young wolves drove in from the side, scattering Megaloceros as they rushed toward their target. Winter saw the other hunters leap out of nowhere. The swift Direwolves closed in on the herd, converging toward the very centre where the old buck hobbled. Winter's brave sister was a grey streak as she darted ahead of the elderly Megaloceros, cutting off its escape. The startled buck leaped to the right, completely avoiding his sister's jaws. Luckily, there was always another wolf laying in wait. The grey beta blazed toward the Megaloceros, kicking up a shower of loose pebbles. He pounced with a snarl, claws outstretched toward its back.

The grey buck barely twisted out of the way in time, hooves digging into the rocky ground for purchase. The beta only clawed the air where it had been an instant before. Winter saw an opportunity and rushed to meet the stag head-on, his sister loping by his side. The white Direwolf kicked off the ground and sailed through the air, straight for the startled Megaloceros.

Now that he had a closer look, Winter could tell the buck had been injured not too long ago. Long scars adorned its great hairy back; white streaks on grey fur where claws had met flesh. Winter also noticed a set of deep bite marks on its hind leg, the one it was limping with. The old buck had a massive rack of faded yellow antlers, a few chipped or snapped from combat. Winter could tell the beast had lived a long life based on the enormous size of the spiky protrusion. All this he noticed in an instant. The world sped up again as Winter careened toward the fleeing beast.

There was a mighty _crack_ , like the roar of thunder. Winter blinked as he crashed into the snow, disoriented by the lack of flesh beneath his claws. His head snapped up and saw the Megaloceros galloping away. Then he realized there was blood staining the snow. _His own?_ Winter pushed himself off the icy ground and shook the powdery snow from his coat. His body ached from crashing into the floor, but he felt no pain apart from the collision. That was when he realized his sister's limp body on the ground.

She had been by his side a moment ago, leaping toward the old buck. Now the silver Direwolf was slumped in the snow, blood pooling around her head. Winter's head swam as he realized what had just happened. There was a pair of muddy hoof indentations in his sister's head. The white Direwolf threw back his head and howled in agony. He tried to lick the blood off, tried to reverse what had just happened. The sickly red liquid kept gushing out. There was too much blood, too much. . .

Winter exploded from the ground and bounded after the buck. One of the golden twins was already on its tail. Winter's paws touched the ground. Once, twice. He was side by side with the golden wolf, the male, he had time to comprehend. Winter rammed him aside and kept going without a backwards glance. The stag brayed as it galloped, _taunting_ him, _laughing_ at him. Winter snarled with fury. One bound. The grey buck was closer. Two bounds. Winter could almost tear its tail off. Three bounds. He could taste the fear coming off the fleeing beast.

Winter vaulted off the ground. The buck was thrice his height, an impossible distance for the young wolf. But Winter wouldn't let it get away. The monster would suffer for what it did. He put all his anger, all his grief into the lunge. There was a flash of grey and then he was on its back, clawing at fur and flesh. He slashed and hacked, taking all his anger out on the killer. Half a dozen bright red rivers opened under the fury of his claws. Winter dug into the bloody fur, teeth bared in a snarl. The beast twisted left and right, desperately trying to shake him off. The white Direwolf used the momentum to throw himself forward.

Winter closed his jaws around its thick neck and crunched down hard. There was a satisfying _crack_ and the Megaloceros was suddenly falling. The huge grey body crashed into the frozen ground, steaming warm blood spurting from its wounds. The eyes were glazed over, one milky white, the other a dull brown. Winter didn't care. He mauled the corpse, ripping through fur and flesh and bone. He had just taken down a fully grown Megaloceros by himself. Winter could barely comprehend the turn of events, but the victory was hollow. He would trade a thousand first kills if it meant his sister's life.

Winter growled and turned around, the fury all but drained from him. He padded back to his sister's body where a loose circle of wolves had already formed. Winter saw the golden male, who he had knocked over in his haste. The white Direwolf stalked over apologetically, his head hung low. There was only the slightest pause before the golden wolf rubbed against him forgivingly. Winter managed to choke out an affectionate growl before turning back to his dead sister. His father stood at the front of the corpse, head hung low in respectful silence. The great white alpha raised his eyes to meet Winter's.

There was a sad gleam in those golden orbs. Winter hadn't even noticed it until now, but his father had the exact same eyes as him. Winter realized that this mournful look was one that his father had worn before. He suddenly remembered all those other litters that came before him, and wondered how many children his father had lost before. Too many, Winter guessed. In that instant, the mighty alpha didn't look large, strong or even remotely intimidating. He just looked sad.

Winter's father threw his head back and howled, low and deep. Winter joined in, followed by his siblings and the rest of the pack. He howled that night for the sister who would never take another breath. The sister who would never again curl up to sleep by his side, or bound through fresh snow-covered fields. The wolves mourned well into the night.

* * *

After the death of his sister, Winter thought he was safe from any more tragedies. The young Direwolf couldn't have been more wrong. Fortunately, they didn't happen right away. Winter had a few precious months of happiness before disaster struck again.

The pack moved north shortly after his sister's death. Seasons on the island could last for years, and Winter was fortunate to have been born in the spring. Only the older wolves of his pack had lived through the winter, and every single one shuddered at the thought of its return. Winter still couldn't understand their concern, but he knew one thing for certain. The long spring was finally over.

The land grew warmer as the ground thawed and the late spring snows melted. With the rising temperatures came strange new animals that returned from the south. Long-limbed Terror Birds, brightly feathered Raptors, ferocious Thylacoleo and huge Paraceratherium. The wolf pack's territory bordered the Redwoods, and with summer's arrival, the southern inhabitants were returning.

The Direwolves bid farewell to their spring residence and set off north for a colder home. Winter would always miss the den and the surrounding terrain where he had grown up, but the young wolf reminded himself that they would eventually return when the lands grew cold again. Until then, the journey north was an exciting new chapter in his life.

The pack set off together, fifteen Direwolves in all. Winter's father led the way from his customary position at the front of the column. The alpha knew exactly where to go, but the journey to their northern home still took a week. They would stop long enough to make a few kills, get some sleep and replenish their energy, then set out again at the crack of dawn. The pack mainly followed the river, but took shortcuts through forests and hills when it meandered too far off course. The Direwolves marked the way as they went, claiming territory as they had done before in the south.

Only a pitifully small stretch of land overlapped their summer and winter homes. Though the pack had lived here the previous summer, years had passed since then and new animals had moved to claim the abandoned territory. Luckily, many left without resistance at the sight of the massive pack, and the Direwolves had no trouble retaking their northern home. It was a trivial task, but essential to their survival.

Their southern territory had already been vast and difficult to retain. The northern territory was just as large, if not larger. Winter understood that it would have been nearly impossible for the pack to defend both lands at once, even with their abnormal numbers. In either case, the young Direwolf found the land-claiming enjoyable; a welcome reprieve from the world where Winter could temporarily forget his sorrow. He would mark stones, trees and shrubs with his scent, warning other beasts to stay away from their turf. Almost every Direwolf among them joined in, save for the two omegas who didn't have that right. Winter sometimes felt bad for the two, even if their mere presence dishonoured the pack.

The omegas would always eat last, long after the other wolves had abandoned the kill. If Winter stuck around long enough, he would always see them fighting off carrion birds just for a shred of sickly meat. A life of harassment and isolation had left the male sullen and distrustful, the female meek and insecure. Yet even if he pitied them, Winter knew the predicament was still partly their own fault. Direwolves could claw their way up the ranks if they worked hard enough, as he had learned.

Winter himself was already higher-ranking than his siblings and even some of the other grown Direwolves. His worth in battle had helped solidify a position somewhere near the middle of the hierarchy. Perhaps his father's title as alpha had contributed to the rank, but Winter knew his own initiative was the main factor. In any case, Winter was doing well for a Direwolf who still wasn't fully grown. He had even jumped ahead by a few positions recently, though by no means of his own.

Another benefit of the move north was a change in the dynamic of the pack. Winter knew that other animals had taken over the abandoned territory, but he hadn't expected one such group to be another pack of Direwolves. There were only six of them; a large tawny brown alpha male; a pale grey female, the only adult one; two smaller males, one black and the other grey; last of all, two sickly brown pups that looked half-starved, one male and the other female. Winter and his siblings had inspected them curiously, but found the pups of little interest. They were perhaps two months old, much younger than the adolescent Direwolves.

Upon their inspection, the brown alpha had growled in warning. The challenge was met by Winter's father, who padded over to meet the smaller Direwolf. Instead of wisely backing down, the brown alpha had snapped at his father's face; the universal challenge of dominance between wolves. Both packs backed away, forming a loose circle around the snarling pair. In a sudden flash of fur and teeth, the two alpha Direwolves were charging to meet head-on.

The fight was over before it began. Winter's father leapt an instant before the collision, long legs outstretched and sharp claws gleaming. The two Direwolves went down together, snapping and slashing as they rolled. There was a flash of white and suddenly, the brown alpha was pinned by Winter's father. Jaws snapped as the white Direwolf lunged, stopping just short of the throat. The brown Direwolf rolled over and whined in submission, flashing the light fur on his belly; the most vulnerable spot on a wolf, and the signal for surrender.

Winter's father backed away, tail raised high and ears pressed forward in aggression. He snarled triumphantly as the loser rose, tail tucked between his legs. The huge white Direwolf was the new alpha of both packs.

The brown Direwolf growled and backed away, head held low. Winter counted half a dozen slashes on his brown coat but not a single one on his father. The huge white alpha tossed his head back and howled triumphantly, his pack joining in. The newly annexed wolves crept over timidly, still unsure of their social standings. Winter's father had simply tossed his head and stalked away, leaving the startled newcomers to figure it out for themselves.

Things eventually calmed down again after the excitement of the move north and the assimilation of the new Direwolves. Most of them were thrust to the bottom of the hierarchy, just slightly above the omegas. Winter was surprised to find the overthrown alpha climb higher than himself. The brown Direwolf turned out to have great respect for his superior, and worked hard to earn the alpha's trust. Winter was amazed to find him become one of his father's most loyal followers. After the battle, nobody questioned the white Direwolf's supremacy again, the conquered alpha least of all.

Winter spent the following weeks adapting to his new life in the north. One of the most noticeable differences was the change in prey. The large Wooly Rhinoceros was more common here, where its thick fur was better adapted to withstand the freezing temperatures. Similarly, there were greater amounts of Direbears, although none quite so large or fierce as the first. Winter had never seen a Mammoth before, and was shocked after his first encounter with one of the hairy mountains. He was a quick learner however, and soon the white Direwolf was hunting with the best of them.

The pack needed to hunt less often, for whenever they made a kill it would last much longer. Larger prey meant more meat, and the cold was often enough to keep a meal fresh for days. Winter recalled the time his pack had taken down a lumbering Mammoth. The massive corpse had fed the Direwolves for nearly a fortnight.

Winter adjusted quickly to his new life. If anything, it was a refreshing reprieve from the south. The snow was softer and the wind was cooler. Winter could spend hours rolling in the frosty white, forgetting the troubles of his life. Forgetting the grief he had suffered in the south.

Unfortunately, life had a few more bitter twists for the young Direwolf. Harsh lessons that he would never truly recover from, scarring memories that would haunt him until his dying breath. It had all started on a starry night, just like any other.

There had been a strange stench in the air. A foul odour that soured his nose, musky, damp and. . . evil. It was the scent of a Direwolf, but one that Winter had never seen before in his life. He was _dark_ , darker than his quiet sister. Darker than the night sky, darker than the deepest shadow in the bowels of the world. Darker than death.

The strange black Direwolf had appeared without warning, heralded only by the faint musky scent carried by the wind. It was already too late by the time the pack had noticed a stranger in their midst. Snarling Direwolves had cornered the intruder, backing him against a cliff. The stranger had gone willingly, not even fighting back when a wolf tore at his flank. It was only when Winter's father showed up that the intruder had shown any interest.

Flanked by two of his largest Direwolves, the great white alpha had made an impressive sight as he clambered onto a boulder to see what the commotion was about. The stranger was unfazed by the display, and only snarled defiantly. Winter's father leapt from his high vantage point, landing nearly face to face with the intruder. To his credit, the black Direwolf hadn't even flinched away.

Facing each other at such a close proximity, Winter could tell his father was much larger than the newcomer. That wasn't to say the other Direwolf was small. He stood nearly as tall as the grey beta, around twice Winter's height at the time. Direwolves had growled at the intruder, cautioning him to back away. The black Direwolf ignored the warning, his eyes locked on Winter's father. The white alpha bared his teeth and lashed his tail, demanding an explanation for the intrusion. In response, the strange wolf snapped his jaws and growled, low and deep, provoking the alpha into a fight. Winter's father tossed his head and snarled, confidently accepting the challenge.

A crowd gathered rapidly as the two Direwolves circled. They feinted snaps and lunges, trying to prompt the other into a reckless charge. Winter's father suddenly rushed in, trying to end the fight as abruptly as it had begun. The other Direwolf leapt away as the alpha lunged, jaws closing on thin air. Winter's father corrected himself and pounced again, claws outstretched. He grazed the challenger's coat, leaving a bright red trickle of blood in his wake. The injured wolf snarled in fury, whirling to snap at his assailant.

Instead of evading the attack, Winter's father rushed into it. The white Direwolf slammed into the black with a heavy _thud_ , throwing them both onto the frozen ground. Winter's father was up first. He dove in for the neck, jaws lashing with a savage fury. The dark wolf retreated, just narrowly avoiding the injury. The white alpha pursued relentlessly, claws and teeth gleaming as he drove the intruder away.

The black wolf lunged suddenly, catching Winter's father off guard. The two Direwolves reared up and grappled in the air. With a harsh shove, the larger wolf sent the smaller one flailing. Winter's father lashed out again, all his strength behind the swipe. His sharp claws dug into the black fur, staining it with crimson blood. The wounded Direwolf turned and bounded up a slope, his blood leaving a glistening red trail. The pack howled in delight as the alpha gave chase, long legs flying as he dashed after the fleeing wolf. The spectators followed, not wanting to miss out on the action.

They pulled to a stop on a flat cliff-top, jagged rocks haphazardly scattered around the clearing. The wounded Direwolf growled and slowly backed away, Winter's father matching him step for step. The alpha lunged with a snarl, claws gleaming under the silver glow of the moon. Winter's father rained down blow after blow, backing the dark wolf against a boulder. Just when the battle seemed over, the black Direwolf dashed under a heavy swipe and charged toward the edge of the cliff. Straight for Winter's sister.

The brave grey Direwolf had circled around to get a better view of the fight. Unfortunately, this time the risk had blown up in her face. The black Direwolf rammed into his sister hard, sending the startled wolf over the side of the cliff. Winter howled, half in fury and half in surprise. Luckily, the falling Direwolf's startled cry was followed by a loud _splash_. They had all forgotten about the river, of which the cliff overlooked. Winter and the other wolves rushed to the cliffside, faces peering down anxiously. Every Direwolf except for the injured intruder, who took the opportunity to rest against a boulder.

Winter quickly spotted his brave grey sister splash ashore dripping wet. His relief was almost immediately replaced by a tight coil of dread. A huge Daeodon was shuffling around the frozen bank, snout pressed into the mud as it searched for food. Its head immediately whipped up, gleaming black eyes locked onto the young Direwolf.

Fully grown, one of the carnivorous boars was slightly taller and much wider than an adult Direwolf. This beast was clearly an exception. It loomed over Winter's sister, thick flanks heaving as it eyed a potential meal. The Daeodon gave a harsh squeal and charged, heavy hooves digging into the riverbank. Its long tusks gleamed in the moonlight.

Winter's father snarled in fury. He bounded straight off the cliff, landing on a rough boulder halfway down. The great white Direwolf descended to the riverbank swiftly and carelessly, kicking up a spray of loose pebbles. Winter's father landed on his foreleg with an awkward _crunch_. The huge Direwolf wasted no time and immediately limped to his daughter, snarling in pain with every step.

The large boar snorted as the white alpha placed himself in front of its meal. Winter's father growled in warning, giving the beast a chance to flee. The Daeodon stubbornly pawed at the ground and snorted. It charged with a bloodthirsty squeal, silver tusks gleaming as it kicked up clumps of frozen mud. The alpha snarled and rushed to meet the attacker.

Winter's father twisted away from the deadly tusks at the last second, skidding to the side and diving in again. His powerful jaws closed around the boar's thick leathery flank. The Daeodon squealed and lashed out with its heavy head, knocking the Direwolf away. It charged after the disoriented alpha, who barely had time to regain his stance. The huge boar rammed into the white Direwolf, tusks digging into fur and flesh. Winter's father tried to bound away, only to find out he was unable to escape the Daeodon's tusks. They were lodged deep, binding the Direwolf against the massive boar.

The Daeodon quickly noticed the Direwolf's vain struggle and used the hinderance to its advantage. The boar tossed its head and charged at the cliff wall, Winter's father still helplessly pinned by its tusks. The white alpha slammed into the cliff-side with a heavy _crunch_ , growling in pain from the collision. Luckily, the impact jolted the Direwolf free, and Winter's father eased off the bloody tusks with an encumbered snarl. The alpha's shoulder was twisted at a grotesque angle, and blood spurted from the two puncture wounds in his side.

Winter's father struggled to his feet, growling as he rose. The alpha staggered and nearly went down, but caught himself in time and stumbled into the cliff. He snarled at the approaching Daeodon, blood-stained fur bristling with aggression. The boar charged, but the wounded alpha leapt away in time and narrowly avoided getting skewered again. The Daeodon crashed into the cliff with a heavy _crack_ , dislodging a loose spray of stone. Yet despite the heavy impact, the giant boar seemed unfazed. It whirled with a grunt and charged again, gleaming yellow eyes locked on Winter's father.

The white Direwolf leapt on the beast's back, sharp claws digging into the thick hide. The Daeodon shook desperately, trying to dislodge the unwanted passenger. It careened into a boulder, but the Direwolf bounded off in time. The giant boar stumbled away from the sharp rock, a few thin trickles of blood running down its underbelly. Winter's father circled around and noticed the wound. He immediately darted in and tore at the vulnerable spot, jaws ripping off a chunk of flesh. The Daeodon squealed in pain and reeled away, blood spurting from the open wound.

Only scrapes and cuts adorned the boar's thick upper hide, but its lower portion seemed to be more lightly armoured. The great white alpha was quick to notice, and relentlessly targeted the Daedon's soft underside. Winter barked in delight as the huge boar staggered away, bloody flesh dangling from its torn belly. The Daeodon turned and tried to escape, only for the white Direwolf to cut off its retreat with a menacing growl. Winter's father darted under its vulnerable belly, closed his jaws around the bloody flesh, and tore clean through with a vicious wrench of his head.

Bloody intestines spilled from the gash as the boar stumbled away, flanks heaving desperately. It gave one last piercing squeal before toppling over with a heavy _thump_. The body shook twice before going completely limp. The white alpha turned to inspect his startled daughter. He barely got a step before being bowled over by a lean dark shape. The challenger had returned.

The black Direwolf took the alpha by surprise, snapping and clawing with a savage fury before the stunned wolf could react. Winter's father quickly regained his senses and tried to fight back, but was slowed down by his injuries. The white Direwolf caved in under the ferocious assault, slowly giving up ground as he tried to retaliate.

With a sudden burst of energy, Winter's father tackled the smaller Direwolf. They rolled on the ground, snapping and lashing; a whirlwind of black and white. The alpha tired quickly, his attacks coming slower and less often. The black Direwolf only seemed to grow bolder by the second, each snap or slash coming faster than the last.

The tumbling mass of fur and teeth rolled to a stop, the black Direwolf on top. Winter's father was panting heavily, bleeding from countless wounds with his broken paw dangled limp in the air. He struggled for a moment, straining to rise from the blood-soaked riverbank. For an instant, the white Direwolf looked as if he were ready to finish the battle. And then he collapsed in a bloody heap.

Winter's father managed to roll onto his back, exposing his vulnerable underbelly to the vicious dark wolf. The signal of defeat. He had lost his position as alpha male, now a title that the black Direwolf held. It would mean a life of shame and dishonour for his father. Either complete exile from the pack, or a position at the very bottom of the new hierarchy. Both were horrible options, but still better than the third. Winter let out a growl of relief. His father would live.

By pack customs, the fight was over at the death or surrender of a combatant. The winner would rule as alpha, but the loser. . . at least his father would live. Life meant a chance to recover, to grow strong again, and maybe even retake the pack. Until then, Winter would do all that he could to help. He was nearly nine months old now, almost a Direwolf grown. He would have left the pack soon anyways, but now he could join his father in his exile. This new alpha meant less than nothing to him. Winter wouldn't stay and follow this coward, who had used trickery and deceit to win. He would stay loyal to the one true alpha, his father. They would find a new pack to conquer, Winter promised himself. In time they might even reclaim this one.

The plans were set. Winter bounded down the slope, delighted that he had already figured something out. Many of the spectators followed him down to the river, curious to meet the new alpha. Or perhaps eager to please the black Direwolf and earn a favourable position in the new hierarchy. Winter didn't care either way. He was already recalling the nearest Direwolf packs, the safest routes and nearby shelters

His paws sank into the crimson mud of the riverbank, thawed by all the blood that had been shed earlier. Winter quickly spotted the two battle-worn Direwolves, still in the same position he had seen from the top of the cliff. The new black alpha stood triumphantly, a paw firmly planted on his father's chest as he savoured the victory. Winter could tell his father was in pain, but the white Direwolf masked it well, afraid to incur the wrath of the victor.

The new alpha only moved when the crowd had finally assembled, turning to gaze at each Direwolf in turn. He locked eyes with Winter, those ferocious amber orbs piercing into his soul. The black Direwolf snarled in delight as his jaws closed around the defeated alpha's throat. The monstrous wolf wrenched his head back sharply, taking a chunk of flesh and fur in a spray of bright red blood. Winter's father barely had time to register what happened before a torrent of blood gushed out in vicious spurts, soaking into the already stained riverbank.

There was a moment of stunned silence that seemed to stretch on forever. Winter suddenly realized what had just happened, and leapt with a deadly snarl. The amused black Direwolf easily slammed him away, teeth bared in a delighted growl as he savoured the moment. Winter was seething with rage, his vision turning red as the violent fury took control. He was about to rush the black Direwolf again when his grey sister suddenly blocked him off. She pushed him back when he tried to go around, and soon his brother and other sister were there as well, holding him away from the killer.

Winter snarled in rage, warning them to back off. His normally fearless grey sister growled ruefully, almost timidly, and inclined her head toward their dying father, then back to the amused alpha. The message was clear. Winter couldn't win.

The large black Direwolf was nearly twice his size, despite Winter being nearly ready to leave the pack and strike off on his own. He had used trickery and deceit to win, and wouldn't hesitate to do so again. Though Winter was already a talented hunter, he only had experience against foes that wouldn't fight back. The young Direwolf had never actually fought against another of his own kind, and would surely perish if he chose to start now. His siblings were right. He couldn't win.

Winter backed away reluctantly, tail tucked between his legs. The growing tension eased palpably as the large black alpha snarled triumphantly. He bounded onto a rock and glowered down at the assembled pack expectantly. For an instant, none of the Direwolves moved. Then the skinny grey omega scampered before him, scraping down low. He bit the new alpha under the chin and sank to the floor in silent obedience, awaiting a new order. The black alpha was clearly pleased. He raised his head and growled for the malnourished grey Direwolf to rise.

The omega followed the command eagerly, bounding to the large Direwolf's side. The alpha inclined his head in approval and nodded for the grey Direwolf to sit down. The omega took a spot by the new alpha's side, clearly pleased with himself for the clever thinking. Winter immediately decided that he hated the cowardly grey Direwolf, who would grovel to this stranger before his father's blood was even cold. He studied the rest of the pack sullenly, wondering who would betray his father next.

They were reluctant and perhaps a bit scared, but the other Direwolves quickly approached after witnessing the omega's actions. They each groveled before the new alpha, scraping the ground with their ears tucked in and tails between their legs. With an insistent snarl from the black Direwolf, each of his new subjects would repeat the gesture for the omega, who watched with a smug gleam in his eyes. The old omega had become the new beta.

Many of the Direwolves approached angrily, humiliated at having to appease to a wolf who had been their inferior only moments before. Yet the omega's sudden jump in position inspired many wolves to try the same. Each grovelled lower than the last, vying for a higher standing than when Winter's father had ruled. A stream of Direwolves went before the new alpha until only a few were left standing defiantly.

Winter hadn't budged since backing down, and now stood with his head raised high. To his delight, none of his siblings had joined the new alpha either. Winter's mother loomed behind them protectively, lashing her tail furiously as she eyed the dead alpha's corpse. The former beta remained as well, growling angrily as he regarded the smug black alpha and his newly appointed beta.

The black Direwolf glanced at them with a lazy flick of his head. He snapped at his new pack to gain their attention and bounded off the rock. Direwolves closed in on all sides, forming a deadly wall of claws and teeth behind their new alpha. The black Direwolf snarled confidently and stalked forward, his cowardly grey beta following close behind. Winter slowly backed away, snarling as he prepared to leap. The other Direwolves on his side followed suit, tensing in preparation for whatever the new alpha might do.

The black Direwolf stopped in the middle of the clearing, just a few paces from Winter's brother. With a sudden burst of speed, the alpha pounced with his claws outstretched. He landed on the young Direwolf with a fierce snarl, jaws snapping at the smaller wolf's throat. The effect was immediate and disastrous. It was like a trigger had been pulled, throwing all the Direwolves into the fray.

The traitorous wolf pack closed in on Winter and the loyalists, biting, slashing and snapping as they recklessly followed their new alpha into battle. Winter was absolutely furious, enraged at the traitors who had been his friends only moments before. He barely had time to register the sudden explosion of fur and teeth, but some of his allies were better prepared. The former grey beta bounded into the new alpha, snarling as he tore the black Direwolf away from Winter's brother. The two rolled on the ground, dirt and blood staining their fur.

Winter's brother was assailed from all sides. The poor Direwolf was closest to the treasonous pack, and presented the easiest target for their wrath. There was a sickening _crunch_ as one particularly heavy Direwolf landed on his brother's leg. The young Direwolf howled in pain as he was thrown under the wave of wolves. Winter rushed in to help, but the former beta got there first.

The grey Direwolf bowled into the traitors with brutal ferocity, throwing them off the wounded wolf. They leapt away with startled growls, eyeing the newcomer warily. The former beta placed himself in front of Winter's injured brother protectively, snarling as the attackers closed in. He drew himself up to his full height and barked with such authority that many of the traitorous Direwolves instinctively backed away. The former beta took the opportunity to turn and snarl at Winter and his siblings, tossing his head at an opening behind them.

The young Direwolves made haste and darted away before any of their attackers could close the gap. Even their mother followed, crashing through wolves as she pursued her children. The former grey beta finally seemed to relax, even as Direwolves slowly closed in on all sides. His gaze was fixed on Winter and his siblings as he gave another vicious bark, warning the young Direwolves to flee. The former beta shot them one last meaningful look before turning to face his assailants, teeth bared in a snarl.

The traitorous wolves darted in from every angle, slashing and snapping as Winter and his family escaped. The tall grey Direwolf went down in a wave of fur and teeth, struggling even as the other wolves drove him into the blood-stained ground. Winter only realized they had just left the wolf to die by the time they were well on their way.

Pained snarls echoed behind the family as they fled. Winter and his brave grey sister supported their wounded brother, who was limping heavily from his broken leg. Their mother led the way, frantically sniffing out a safe trail for them to escape. Winter couldn't hear any more fighting now, only victorious howls that grew closer by the second. The grey beta was dead.

Winter was wrapped by a tight coil of dread as he heard the pack rapidly closing in. Paws pounded the rocky ground, stirring up a trail of dirt and dead leaves. Misty breaths warmed the air, while exhilarated snarls bounced off the cliff walls. He glanced ahead to see steep rocky walls closing in on either side. Winter's mother had just led them into a canyon.

The fleeing Direwolves were quickly funneled in until there was barely enough room to pad side by side. Winter dropped back while his grey sister stayed supporting their brother, her smaller frame better suited for the job. Winter brought up the rear, frantically glancing over his shoulder to watch for approaching enemies. For a while there was nothing.

The weary family pulled to a stop by a rough slope, caused by a recent rockslide. Boulders jutted out all along the path, forming a natural obstacle course that they would have to navigate. Worse still, deep crevices and unstable ground would turn a misplaced step into a slow and agonizing death. But there was no other way. The canyon ended abruptly just up ahead.

His quiet sister went first, creeping up the slope like a shadow. She reached the top without incident, so Winter carefully mimicked her steps. His paw got caught between two rocks halfway up, but a delicate tug was all it took to free himself. Winter heard insistent barking just as his feet touched down at the top of the cliff. He turned in time to see a trio of Direwolves pull into the canyon, snarling viciously as they eyed the escapees.

Winter's mother met the challenge with a snarl of her own as she stepped forward to block their advance. The alpha female turned to give Winter's grey sister a reassuring growl. The young Direwolf had turned back to help, but now listened to their mother and retreated. Winter's brother was nearly up the slope, limping as he struggled to the top. His brave grey sister bounded up to help, frantically pushing the wounded Direwolf forward.

Winter turned his attention back to the approaching traitors. They tried to fan out, but found the maneuver nearly impossible because of the close-pressed canyon walls. Winter's mother had cleverly chosen a location to escape. The frustrated wolves growled as they were forced to approach in single file. Winter knew that most Direwolves weren't used to single combat. Survival meant cooperation and hunting as a pack. When it came to one on one combat, the larger Direwolf usually won.

Winter's mother was certainly larger than the trio who approached now. They were clearly the fastest Direwolves of the pack, but speed came at the price of size. The first wolf approached ferociously, only to get rammed into the cliffside. Winter's mother drove in and tore out his throat with a clean wrench of her head. The next attacker approached more timidly, waiting for his mother to make the first move. The alpha female eagerly complied, and leapt onto the scrawny wolf with a fierce snarl.

Her claws dug into fur, leaving bright trails of red across the Direwolf's dark grey coat. He snarled in pain and backed away, snapping desperately to defend himself. Winter's mother evaded most of the attacks easily, but the scrawny wolf eventually got lucky. Jaws closed around the alpha female's shoulder, sharp teeth digging into fur and flesh. Winter's mother howled in pain and stumbled back, a steady trickle of blood spurting from her shoulder. Emboldened by the wound, the two remaining Direwolves darted in again.

The alpha female was slower this time, and took more blows than she gave. Winter saw another pair of Direwolves bound into view, notice the fight, and charge to help their traitorous comrades. Winter's mother was slowly losing ground to the rapidly advancing wave of wolves. The enemies would switch in and out, retreating only to allow a fresh assailant through. The alpha female was slowly being overwhelmed.

Winter's siblings had finally reached the top of the canyon. His brother limped over the side and promptly collapsed, panting heavily from the exertion. Winter's grey sister appeared a moment later, growling as she surveyed the battle below. Their mother had been forced to the end of the canyon, snarling as the insistent attackers pressed in. She was bleeding from a dozen gashes, although her attackers didn't fare any better. Another had already perished at her claws, his limp body heaped against the canyon wall.

Winter's head snapped toward the opposite end as yet another group of Direwolves bounded into view, the black alpha in the lead. He spotted the silver Direwolf and snarled. Winter was immediately enraged by the sight of his father's killer. He rushed toward the slope, only for his siblings to block the way. Their mother turned and snapped at them, ordering the young wolves to flee. Winter refused to let the foul black wolf kill his mother. He growled and tried to push his siblings away, just as his mother charged. The new alpha snarled eagerly as he bounded forward to meet her, claws gleaming under the moonlight. Direwolves leapt out of the way as the two combatants hurled at one another.

They met in the centre, snapping and snarling as they clashed. Blood and spittle flew everywhere as the two Direwolves traded blows, watering the dry canyon floor with gleaming red liquid. Winter's mother fought desperately, but the weary Direwolf could only resist for so long. The larger black wolf attacked relentlessly, hammering down blow after blow as he drove Winter's mother back. She crouched near the end of the canyon, ready for a final stand.

Winter struggled feverishly, whining, yapping, begging his siblings to let him go down and help. They resisted stubbornly, forcing him farther and farther away from the edge. The white Direwolf howled in frustration as the black alpha charged. His mother leapt in time to meet the huge wolf, colliding against the alpha mid-air.

Winter's mother went sailing into the rocky cliff with a heavy _crack_. She sank to the floor, breaths coming in ragged bursts. The black alpha snarled as he leapt, claws sinking into flesh. He dragged them along the silver Direwolf's coat, opening up fresh rivers of red. Winter's mother snarled as she threw her attacker off and struggled to her feet. The black Direwolf came charging again, sliding under a swipe and ramming into his target. The two combatants rolled on the blood-stained canyon floor, kicking up a cloud of dust as they struggled.

The alpha shoved Winter's mother away with a snarl. She sprawled on the ground, heaving from her wounds as she struggled to rise. The black alpha stalked over triumphantly and planted a paw on her chest. Winter's mother snapped at his face, but came up short because of her awkward position. All the fight seemed to go out of her at once. Instead of struggling, the silver Direwolf turned her head toward Winter and his siblings, who were still spectating from above. She managed a weak growl and threw her head, ordering the wolves to leave. Then there was no more time for final instructions. The black alpha loomed over, and with a delighted growl, he tore into the silver Direwolf's underside.

Winter's mother gave one last pained snarl before choking on her own blood. The sickly red liquid gushed out, drenching her once-clean silver coat. The black alpha threw back his head and howled in victory. Winter felt sick. He threw himself at the edge with a harsh snarl, but was repelled by his siblings. They snapped at him desperately, trying to force him away. Winter tried to get past a second time, but was met by the same results as before. He snapped at them with a sullen growl, and reluctantly allowed himself to be shepherded away from the edge.

Winter's quiet sister growled so softly that he had to crane his neck to hear. She gave a silent nod at the rocky slope, where enemy Direwolves were now clambering up. Winter's grey sister snarled in alarm and bounded up ahead, turning around to bark at her siblings. They followed as best they could, although the young Direwolves were slowed down by Winter's brother. He was limping heavily, snarling in pain with every step that jolted his broken limb. The other Direwolves stayed with their wounded brother, pressing up close so he could lean on them for support.

The young wolves fled toward the horizon, where the bright orange sun was slowly rising. It cast a golden glow on the Direwolves, trailing long shadows behind them as they retreated. Winter and his siblings didn't care where they ended up, so long as they were far from the pack, far from danger and death. Lazy hills rolled ahead, forming a line of snowy lumps across the horizon. The white plains were interspersed with the occasional tree or boulder, a splash of colour against an otherwise bleak world.

Winter snarled urgently as they hobbled along. He could sense their pursuers growing closer by the second, their barks and growls following them like a horde of angry ghosts. The white Direwolf shivered when he thought about what would happen if they were caught, and urged his siblings onward with another desperate snarl. It wasn't enough.

Their enemies put on a fresh burst of speed when Winter and his siblings were within sight. There were perhaps seven or eight, low-ranking Direwolves for the most part, although the black alpha ran at their head. The new beta loped at his side, snarling as he relished his newfound power. Winter growled in anger as the hunters closed in. They were traitors, cowards and weaklings, every single one. At least one part of him was glad to see the absence of a few Direwolves. The ones that he had considered friends growing up; the old beta female, his dark older sister and the golden twins. At least they had the honour to let them escape.

Unlike this band of filthy dogs. The traitorous Direwolves quickly enveloped the weary band. Winter and his siblings tensed up as they were surrounded, ready for a final stand. The large black alpha pushed through the living wall, his teeth bared in a triumphant snarl. For an instant, no one moved.

Then the alpha lunged at Winter's brother, sharp teeth gleaming in the light of dawn. The two Direwolves rolled, snapping at one another as they tumbled. Winter's grey sister moved to help their brother, but was tackled away by three snarling Direwolves before she could reach their wounded sibling. Four more Direwolves circled around Winter and his quiet sister, forcing them against a snowbank. One lunged suddenly, claws outstretched for his sister.

Winter rammed the Direwolf away, hard. He placed himself in front of his sister protectively, snarling as the other wolves closed in. One lunged from the side and tore into his leg. Pain lanced through Winter's body as he stumbled back, snapping to hold his attackers off. Another circled and lunged from the side, but Winter was ready this time. He clamped his jaws shut on the wolf's shoulder, causing the beast to howl in pain. Before she could escape, Winter's claws flashed upward and then the wolf was staggering away, blood spurting from her throat.

A second Direwolf landed on Winter while he was distracted, sending him sprawling on the snow. The white Direwolf tried struggling to his feet, but was pinned under the heavy assailant. There was a sudden black blur, and then he was free. Winter saw his sister land on the heavy Direwolf, snapping at his face while he stumbled around blindly. Winter was about to rush over and help when two more wolves blocked his path.

Winter rushed the first one, jaw gaping wide. His teeth sank into flesh, and he wrenched his head back, sending up a bright spray of blood. The wounded wolf tackled him with a snarl, and the two Direwolves rolled in the snow. Winter ended up on top, but was quickly rammed away by the Direwolf's companion. Winter faced the new assailant, only for powerful jaws to close around his shoulder.

The white Direwolf stumbled away, blood spurting from his many wounds. In that brief moment Winter saw the alpha snap his brother's neck with a savage wrench of his head. Winter howled in fury and shook off his attackers, lunging for the huge black Direwolf.

The alpha turned around, swerved out of the way, and dashed Winter against a boulder in one fluid motion. The white Direwolf stumbled to his feet, fighting the urge to rest against the stone at his back. He turned to face the huge black Direwolf, only for the cowardly grey beta to ram him into the snow. Winter tasted blood. His own, the young Direwolf realized with an angry growl. He whirled and snapped at the cowardly grey wolf, trying to end his worthless life. The former omega twisted away at the last instant, and Winter was slammed back against the boulder by the black alpha.

He saw his grey sister going down in a sea of wolves, blood spurting from countless wounds as the traitorous monsters tore at her every side. His quiet black sister was nowhere to be seen, dead, Winter presumed with a hollow snarl. He staggered to his feet, a growl of pure grief and fury building at the back of his throat. Getting away didn't matter anymore. His father, his mother, his brother and sisters. They were all dead. His entire family was gone forever. . . and only one wolf was responsible. Life didn't matter to Winter anymore. He only cared for one thing now. _Vengeance_.

He would make the monstrous black Direwolf pay for the lives he had taken and the family he had shattered. Winter pounced at the smug black alpha with a thunderous snarl, his vision tinged with red. The beta slammed him out of the way, but Winter had been half-expecting the cowardly grey wolf.

He turned with a vicious snarl and sent the traitorous wolf sprawling. Winter was on him a moment later, bearing down with all his grief and rage. He snapped, once, twice. The grey wolf twisted away for the first, but Winter caught his ear with the second bite. The white Direwolf wrenched his head back ferociously, taking off the appendage with a spray of blood. The grey beta snarled in pain, but Winter was already on him again, aiming at his throat this time. Before he could end the traitor's life, Winter was thrown off the cowardly wolf by some unseen force.

The white Direwolf snarled and whipped his head up to see who would stand between him and his vengeance. He was surprised to see the black alpha staggering around, a lump of black fur on his back, snapping and snarling as it went for his eyes. To his vast amazement, Winter saw his quiet sister attacking the huge alpha. His sister was alive!

His only sister, Winter reflected with a sullen growl. His entire family was dead, save for this one last sibling. And he wouldn't let them take her away too. Winter launched himself at the black alpha and rammed the monstrous wolf into a snowbank, head-first. His sister leapt off the black Direwolf's back and darted to his side. She growled and nudged him urgently as the traitorous wolf pack closed in. Winter whirled around and loped away, his sister a dark shadow by his side.

The two young Direwolves took advantage of the momentary chaos by making a wild dash for the safety of the distant treeline. They darted past two startled wolves and swerved around a snow bank, loping through the white field toward the distant trees. They would stand a chance, however small, of losing their pursuers in the forest. The thought of freedom spurred Winter onward, giving him wings as he bounded away. His sister raced alongside him, pitch black against the bleak white field. Then she swerved off to the right.

Winter barked at her to return, demanding the silent black Direwolf to come back. She snarled back forcefully, louder than any tone he had ever heard the quiet wolf use. Winter was confused, but perhaps this was part of his sister's plan. After all, she had always been the most observant of the litter, and the smartest too. Winter's sister bounded further and further away, kicking up a cloud of powdery white snow. Winter kept going for the trees, as they had originally planned. He could only hope his sister's plan would work, and they would both safely escape.

The Direwolf pack slowed down when they saw Winter's sister split off. There was a brief moment of hesitation before the pack turned after the quiet black Direwolf. Winter's sister kept going in her direction, but the weary black Direwolf was eventually overtaken. The fastest wolves caught up within a couple dozen strides, and tore at his sister's flanks to slow her down. Winter was too far away to do anything but watch helplessly. They circled around the young Direwolf, snapping and slashing from all sides. She fought valiantly, but was quickly overwhelmed by the vicious group.

Winter's sister sank to the ground, her blood staining the snow a bright crimson red. The assembled Direwolves parted to make way for their alpha, who stalked over with long and confident strides. He regarded the defeated wolf nonchalantly, looming over Winter's sister like a bird of prey.

Winter could only watch with sheer horror as the black Direwolf murdered his last remaining family member. The savage monster tore into her underside, ripping off chunks of flesh and fur with a spray of blood. Winter's sister managed to lift her head with a weak growl and shoot a meaningful look far to his right. Even in his trance-like state, the white Direwolf still managed to turn with a snarl, looking for the enemy his sister had just warned him of. Only there was nothing to his right. Just pure, endless snow.

Had the look been meant for him? Winter supposed so, for there was no one else to receive it. But it had been directed nowhere close to him, unless . . . The white Direwolf snarled in fury at the deceit. His sister hadn't seen him because he was nearly invisible against the snow. And she had known that perfectly well.

Winter cursed himself for not having realized sooner. How naive he had been, to think his sister had come up with some elaborate plan! No, Winter realized with a sullen snarl. Her plan had been to sacrifice herself, to give her life for his. Winter lashed his tail in fury, in grief, maybe both. He was angry. He was afraid. But mostly, he was just lonely. It should have been him!

Winter's sister had known that he would be nearly undetectable against the bleak white landscape. Her dark black fur was the polar opposite; a bright flag against the stark white, a target that was impossible to miss. She had _known_ that the pack would go after her, giving Winter the perfect opportunity to escape.

The white Direwolf wanted nothing more than to turn back and kill every single one of the traitorous wolves, but he knew that it was pointless. Winter wouldn't stand a chance against seven fully grown Direwolves, even if he did take them by surprise. He snarled in frustration as the wolves backed away from the corpse, their heads swiveling as they tried to find him amidst the snow. The Direwolves fanned out and began to search, sniffing the air as they tried to pick up his scent.

Winter hesitated as they approached, debating his next course of action. He could lie in wait amidst the snow and ambush the alpha when he came near. Winter lashed his tail in frustration. There were so many flaws to that plan it would be a miracle if it actually worked. Running was always an option, but that was the exact opposite of what Winter wanted.

He wanted vengeance. He wanted death to the traitors. But most of all, he wanted his family back . . . Winter wondered what his dead loved ones would have wanted. For him to run, the white Direwolf supposed. They had died so he could live. They had given their lives to buy him time; the grey beta, back at the northern home; his mother at the canyon; his siblings back at the snowy hills, and his quiet sister just now. Winter realized that they would have died for nothing if the Direwolves caught him now.

That last thought made the decision for him. Winter would not let their deaths be in vain. He spun around and kicked up a cloud of snow, paws pounding the snowy field as he loped toward the distant trees. The sudden movement caught the pack's attention, but by then Winter was already well on his way. He wouldn't stop until he was safe. Winter ran, and ran, and ran…

* * *

The damp green forest was filled with a plethora of strange scents, many of them foreign to Winter's nose. He smelled dew and dirt, fruits and flowers, but also death and blood. The white Direwolf followed the smell cautiously, wary of any beast that might be guarding the kill. His stomach rumbled like a dying Daeodon, nearly loud enough to wake the entire jungle. Winter hadn't eaten in days. Not since the massacre of his family. The young Direwolf had fled for nearly four days straight, only stopping long enough to get a few hours of rest. But he never dared to stay for long.

Winter hadn't sensed any of his pursuers for a while now, but he could never be too careful. It had only been the day before when he had finally shaken them off his trail. Winter crossed two dangerous rivers that day, each swarming with a horde of thirsty beasts. Luckily they had been too preoccupied to notice the lone wolf, and he had passed with ease. Winter knew that an entire pack of Direwolves would have a much harder time going unnoticed, and hoped that it would be enough to stop his pursuers. He couldn't risk getting caught now. It would mean his death.

The pack had chased him well out of the north, the vicious wolves never too far behind. They were following his scent, the invisible trail that Winter couldn't hide. He had managed to get a good head start back in the snowy field thanks to his sister's sacrifice. He would have been long dead if it weren't for her. But Winter would still perish, and soon, if he didn't find any food.

The white Direwolf slipped under a low-hanging bush and scanned his surroundings. The smell was somewhere off to his right, much stronger than before. But there was _something_ else as well. A few _somethings_ in fact. Winter quickly spotted the creatures, short beasts that picked at a leathery grey mound. There were four in all, each one only a fraction of his size. The beasts were scaly and had colourful feathers sprouting from their heads. The largest only came up to Winter's leg. He had never seen these creatures before, but figured they were relatively harmless based on their diminutive statures.

Winter pounced with a snarl, jaws outstretched for the nearest beast. It shrieked in alarm and backed away, a chunk of meat dropping from its jaw. He snapped with a deep growl and the little scavengers all backed away. Winter rushed at the nearest one, who turned and fled into the jungle. Upon seeing this, its companions quickly followed.

Winter was relieved. He immediately turned on the corpse and tore into it with ferocious snarls. The meat tasted stale and sickly, but the Direwolf hadn't eaten in days so he didn't mind. All he cared about was food. He ripped off every morsel that still clung to the bones, salivating as he devoured the remains.

So this was his life now, Winter reflected with a bitter snarl. Slinking around like a common brigand and feasting on another beast's leftovers. The white Direwolf lashed his tail in frustration. He had a choice though. Winter could end it all; the pain and hunger, the guilt and loneliness, the stress and suffering. The ocean was only an hour's walk from here. Winter could simply dive in and let the waves carry his corpse away.

It would be easy as well. Perhaps not entirely painless, but a few minutes of suffering would be worth the effort, or so Winter thought. Yet a small part of his mind seemed to deny the easy way out. That part of him wanted to keep going on, to keep surviving. What was the point though? Winter's entire family was dead. All his friends had turned against him, and there wasn't a single being in the world that cared for him anymore. It would be much easier to simply leave everything behind.

 _No_ , he resolved with a new passion. Winter's own life wasn't his to throw away. It didn't even belong to _him_ anymore, but rather the ones who had died for it; the Direwolves who had given their lives just so he could escape. It would dishonour their memory and sacrifice if he took the easy way out. Winter silently promised himself that he would live to fight another day. He wouldn't let himself die, not yet.

The white Direwolf growled as he backed away from the corpse. He circled it a few times to make sure nothing had been left behind, and bounded into the woods when it was clear. _But where to now?_ Winter knew couldn't turn back for the north. There was the pack to worry about, and the lone wolf couldn't survive in the frigid wastes by himself. _South_? The redwoods might offer some degree of protection, but Winter had seen the beasts that called it home. There was no way that the young Direwolf could compete against ferocious Thylacoleo and packs of blood-thirsty Raptors.

That only left two options; east and west. Winter would have to pass through his former pack's territory in order to get to the west, and the traitorous Direwolves certainly wouldn't let him through with his life. Besides, Winter had rarely ventured west during his time with the pack. The young Direwolf had no idea what those lands would hold. No, the only real option was east.

Winter could follow the coast, sticking to the shade of the jungle to stay hidden. There would be more corpses to scavenge, and maybe even prey to take down. Winter would have to teach himself how to hunt alone if he wanted to survive in this foreign world. He had already spotted fat, clumsy beasts that would make for easy targets. Until then, the young wolf would have to adapt to the humid jungles that were so different from the lands of his birth. The transition would be difficult, but not impossible.

Winter stuck to the undergrowth as he padded away from the corpse. It would take him weeks, maybe even months to learn the ways of his new home. But he was ready. Winter would grow larger and stronger. Large enough to make the black alpha cower in fear, and strong enough to kill all those who had wronged his family. He would return north one day. Whether it was a year from now, or two, or even five. Winter would have his vengeance.

* * *

The strange creature lay sprawled on the beach, completely unmoving except for the shallow rise and fall of its chest. Winter observed in silence, hidden by the shade of a bush. He peeked at the strange beast through a gap between two leaves. Still nothing.

The white Direwolf had discovered the creature roughly an hour ago, while out hunting for Dodos. The fat clumsy birds had vacated this section of the beach long ago, evidently too unsettled by the presence of the foreign beast. It had a strange sweaty scent and a relatively smooth body, free of fur, feathers or scales. The beast, a he, Winter decided, did have one exception; a shaggy golden-brown mop of hair clinging to the top of his head.

Winter shifted uneasily and circled around to a slightly cooler patch of shade. The jungle was absolutely _boiling._ The white Direwolf had been expecting a much warmer climate, but never this hot. He was still getting used to the move, even after three months of living in the eastern jungle. He had already shed most of his snowy white coat to escape the worst of the heat. Yet Winter still found himself panting from daily exertions, sometimes even in the nights after a particularly warm day.

Apart from the abrupt shift in climate, Winter was adapting well to his new life. There was a much greater abundance of prey to be found in the tropics, whereas in the north he had only hunted a few select species. The prey was easier to catch as well. Winter would often feed on slow Dodo birds and ungainly Phiomia. To be sure, there were always corpses to be found, but Winter rarely scavenged anymore. It had been the Direwolf's primary source of food in his first few weeks, but those days were long behind him.

Winter had grown taller by a few heads since his exile from the north. At first, it had been all he could do to chase a few Compies away from a kill, but now the Direwolf could hold his ground against many more scavengers; Dilophosaurus, Pegomastax and such. Only the smallest carnivores lived nearby, and Winter was perfectly content staying in this area of the jungle.

He had seen a few other predators lurking in the bordering forests; a feathered Yutyrannus and its two Carnotaurus companions, a trio of vicious Terror Birds, and a large Pulmonoscorpius. Winter always made sure to stay clear of their territory, and they never bothered him either. There was plenty of prey to be found here, unlike in the north where food was scarce and the competition was brutal. Winter found that living alone was tolerable for the most part, but there were still times when he missed having a pack.

Sleeping alone had been unnerving for the first few nights, where every distant echo had sent Winter's fur standing on end. He still felt uncomfortable sleeping without a pair of eyes to watch over him, but the young Direwolf had more or less gotten accustomed to it. Hunting in the jungle was a much easier transition. Winter didn't need any help cornering swift prey or wearing down large beasts. It was usually just a matter of surprising the prey, which was sometimes hard for the Direwolf. His stark white coat stuck out unnaturally among the tropical greens, but this setback had helped Winter become much better at hiding.

In either case, his predicament had become an advantage. Winter was doing just fine on his own, yet he sometimes yearned for the safety of his old pack. He would reclaim it. _One day,_ Winter had promised himself all those months ago. That day was closer than before, and still drawing closer by the hour. Winter would reclaim his father's pack, even if it was the last thing he did.

The white Direwolf was stirred from his thoughts by movement down the beach. The strange beast was moving. Winter immediately backed into the safety of the shadows, hidden by the undergrowth. The creature groaned and rolled over, pushing himself off the sand with an elbow. He gasped in pain a moment later, and collapsed back into the beach with a sharp intake of air.

The creature wheezed in the sand like a fish out of water, his chest rising and falling in rapid bursts. When his breathing finally steadied, the hairless beast pushed himself off the ground again. He struggled for a moment, arms trembling from the exertion. The strange creature pushed himself into a kneeling position, panting to catch his breath. The man stayed like that for a small eternity. He started leaning forward, just slightly, as if he were about to fall back into the sand.

With a sudden burst of energy, the hairless beast rose from the sand. Winter was surprised to find that he stood on two legs instead of four. It seemed like an extremely unstable position to the Direwolf, and sure enough the creature stumbled around, unsteady on his feet. His eyes locked on the jungle and he started forward, feet moving on their own while his eyes retained a glassy sheen.

Twice the creature nearly stumbled, and twice he managed to catch himself in time. The beast was nearly in the shade when his steps slowed. He lurched to the left, then right, staggering as he slumped forward. The strange creature promptly crashed into the sand, lying face-down as Winter had first found him.

The white Direwolf patiently waited for the hairless beast to rise. He didn't so much as shift a muscle, face still firmly glued to the beach. It was an hour later that Winter cautiously padded over, curiosity having gotten the better of him. The white Direwolf stopped a few paces short, watching the creature carefully. Now that he was closer, Winter could see that the beast was actually covered in hairs, albeit thin golden threads that were nearly invisible against his skin. The beast didn't stir, even when the young Direwolf nudged an arm with his snout.

But the creature's skin was _burning_ hot. He would surely overheat if left in the sun, so Winter took a limb in his mouth and dragged the beast under the shade. The white Direwolf nearly waited another hour, watching the rise and fall of the creature's chest. Winter couldn't say what entranced him about this strange being, but he felt a certain . . . connection. Perhaps because the beast was an outcast, like himself, but the young Direwolf felt there was something more to it. Winter sniffed at his face. Nohing. He cautiously crept forward until he was nearly on top of the beast. The white Direwolf licked at his face, trying to prompt a response.

The creature's eyes flared open almost immediately, and he flinched away in alarm. The sudden movement caught Winter off guard, and he bared his teeth in a silent growl. The beast stared at him wide-eyed, frozen in place by fear. Winter stayed perfectly still as he observed the creature. _Otto_ _,_ something whispered from deep inside him. The beast's name was . . . _Otto_?

 _Otto_ , the part of his mind whispered again, more insistent this time. Winter abruptly leapt off his chest and bounded into the jungle, but the voice didn't go away. _Otto_ _. . ._ The world was suddenly spinning, disappearing from beneath his very paws. _Otto_ _. . ._ White tinged his vision, white like a fresh field of snow. White like his fur. _Otto_ _. . ._ The world was a blanket of white. And then he was falling, falling. . .

 _Otto_ _. . ._

"Otto!" Insistent hands gripped his shoulders, rocking him awake.

Otto Weiss blinked to life, sputtering as he sat up. The moon was a silver disk in a sea of stars, far up above them. He could make out the distinct outline of Willam looming above him.

"Otto," he gasped, relieved. "You were shaking in your sleep. Growling, even. I didn't know what to do."

Otto touched a hand to his forehead, feeling the slick sheen of sweat that covered his skin. _Skin . . . not fur. What in the world?_

"You did the right thing," he managed to croak. "I'm fine no-" Otto burst into a fit of ragged coughs, shoulders trembling as he clutched at his chest. Wrinkled hands pressed a leathery skin into his, and Otto tipped his head back immediately. The cool water trickled down his throat, and the coughs subsided.

Otto gasped for air as he pulled the waterskin away, completely emptied by his frantic struggle. He managed to nod his gratitude at Willam, although he doubted the other man could see it in the darkness.

"I'll refill it later," the old man promised.

"No need," Otto rasped. "I'm fine now. Truly." The other man looked unconvinced. "It was just a . . . dream. Go get some rest. I'll take the next wach"

Otto thought he saw a nod, though the gloom made it impossible to tell for sure. He could hear Willam shuffling away a moment later, then the soft rustle of grass as the other man settled down. Otto let out the breath he didn't know he was holding. He pressed his back against the rough bark of a tree, and let his eyes adjust to the darkness.

Their entire band, or rather the remains of it, was arrayed around the small clearing. There was Willam, just across from him. The old man was curled up by his egg, cradling the massive orb as he tried to sleep. His right arm was wrapped in blue moss, from the very tips of his fingers all the way up to his elbow. Otto had seen the burn scars himself, something that the old man would be stuck with for the rest of his life. He was grateful that Willam been there all those nights ago. If it weren't for the old man, Otto and his companions would have perished at the jaws of those accursed Megalosaurus. He shivered at the thought, and shifted uncomfortably.

A bit farther to the right was Joseph, his chest rising and falling slowly. Otto could easily distinguish his ragged gasps in the night. Being slammed against a boulder had left Joseph with half a dozen broken bones, and probably damage to his internal organs. Yet the huge man tried not to show his pain. At least when he was awake. Otto could see how much his injuries hurt during the night. Joseph would grimace and shift uncomfortably, then flinch from the movement.

Only part of his pain was physical, Otto knew. They were still distraught at the loss of Hawk and Sarah, both of whom had been slain by the Megalosaurus pack. Otto knew how Hawk, who had been particularly close with Joseph, had perished defending her friend. The memory still haunted the large man, and he seemed to blame himself for the small Dilophosaurus' death.

Otto knew how Joseph felt. He suffered through the same guilt every single hour. It had been _him_ that his friends looked to for decisions. And he had made the wrong one. Staying in their camp when they should have left. Otto had seen the signs, they all had, yet they stayed anyway. Because of him. Hawk and Sarah both paid for his mistake with their lives, and Winter. . . he might join them too. _Winter._ _my oldest friend. And I still couldn't help you, not when it mattered._

Otto shuffled over to the huge Direwolf and lay a hand on his shaggy coat. He felt a pulse and sighed in relief. Whether it was stronger or weaker than the last time he had checked, Otto could not say. He had worried for Winter's life ever since he and Willam had pulled the great Direwolf out of their smoking base, his fur slick with blood. Otto hadn't been able to tell whether the wolf was even alive at first, and had only found out much later in the night. Winter's pulse had been so weak that Otto had barely felt it.

The Direwolf hadn't stirred from his coma since the attack. They were only able to keep him alive by trickling droplets of water into his open mouth. There wasn't any meat left, only the fruits they managed to forage from the jungle. Winter would eventually starve if they couldn't make any kills. Even if they did get the meat, Winter would starve if he didn't wake up. They very well couldn't force anything down his throat without suffocating the poor wolf. And there were always his injuries. Winter had nearly died defending Otto from the Megalosaurus alpha. They had treated his wounds with clean water and moss, but many of them would still be enough to end the white Direwolf's life.

Otto shuddered at the thought of his friend's death. He always made sure to stay near the Direwolf, for any moment might be his last. He and Willam, and Joseph later, had alternated dragging Winter and their supplies on the rickety wooden plank they had salvaged during the fire. They had fled for nearly two days straight, staying to the shadows of the jungle. A horde of beasts travelled along the coast, so many of them that the small band went relatively unnoticed.

They were fleeing the wildfire, Otto knew. He could only hope that the Megalosaurus pack was not among their numbers. He had see them fleeing east, farther into the jungle. Their broken group had turned the opposite way, fleeing west in the hopes that they could reach safety. Where that was, Otto couldn't say. He only knew that turning back meant death. Staying put meant death. Forward was the only option.

Otto glanced at Winter again, and gently ran a hand along his torn-up coat. _What did the dream mean? It couldn't have been real. . . could it?_ It certainly hadn't felt like a dream. Rather, more like he had actually lived through Winter's life. But that was impossible. Otto must have been delirious, mad with grief over the devastating attack on their camp. And yet. . . nothing on this island should be impossible. After all, there were many unexplainable things, too many to be a coincidence. _How could all these scaled beasts exist? How could all those crops grow in one season?  
_ _  
_ _How could he have lived through Winter's life?_

Otto was startled from his thoughts by a gentle growl, so soft that he barely heard it. He glanced down at Winter just in time to see a golden eye blink open. _He's awake. Winter's awake! He'll live!_ Otto was overjoyed as he wrapped Winter in a tight embrace, warm tears trailing down his face. The Direwolf managed an affectionate growl, rough and hoarse. Otto pulled away and stared into Winter's golden eyes, so full of wisdom, so full of pain and loss.

"Your brother and sisters. . . Your father and mother. Everyone you loved," Otto blinked back tears as he regarded the great white Direwolf. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything that you've suffered."

The Direwolf rubbed against him soothingly, and Otto took that as a sign that Winter understood. He gazed into the wolf's eyes and saw his own face, reflected back at him through those deep golden orbs.

* * *

 **Author's note:**

 **Should I have split this chapter in two? Probably.**

 **My fingers are dead. 20'363 words (including the Author's note). Jesus. This chapter makes up 33% of the current story on its own. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this change in style. I had fun writing this chapter (not editing it, that was a pain).**

 **Unfortunately you won't be reading any more chapter that are (mainly) written from Winter's perspective. That isn't to say that Otto will never see through his eyes again. Interesting new stuff.**

 **Anyways, thanks to everyone who left a review last chapter and the ones I have seen just now. Everyone who left a review on this chapter will just have to wait until the next one (even if I did see it), because I like to keep chronological author's notes. Sorry for the delay, but the next chapter will indeed be up much faster than this one. I'm aiming for this friday, but don't be surprised if it doesn't upload.**

 **TheJaiganticBridge, thank you for the continued support and yes, your inferences are pretty much spot-on.**

 **DevoutRelic, thank you for the kind compliment. And don't worry, your money is safe. We are definitely going to meet up with these Megalosaurus again, and it won't be pretty. As for the egg... you'll just have to find out!**

 **Tall-Gothic-Guy, thank you for the continued support. There will definitely be a slight phase of depression, but these are tough survivors and they'll find a way through!**

 **RedLightningD608, thank you for the continued support and yes, they definitely weren't smart about the way they were storing meat. The egg's a mystery, but who knows what it'll be? (well other than me). You'll just have to find out!**

 **NightWyvern91792, thank you for the continued support and the praise to my skill as a writer!  
**

 **Guest, thank you for the review. I agree, characters have to die sometimes otherwise the story gets boring, and fast.**

 **Girlbook, thank you for the support and I hope you're enjoying the story so far. Winter's safe for now. Trust me, I hope so too. (otherwise I just typed 20k words for nothing)**

 **DragonGirl345, thank you for the support and as for the egg, you'll just have to find out!**

 **Thanks for taking the time to check out my first fanfiction, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Special thanks to TheJaiganticBridge, who helped with a lot of the research for some of the northern animals (Direbears, Megaloceros). I will try my best to upload every Friday. Feel free to comment, ask question or criticize my story, review is always welcome. And i** **f you like what you saw, make sure to check out the other ARK: Survival Evolved fanfictions out there. Have a great rest of your day or night.**

 **-DaRumpyBurr**


	10. Willam II

**Willam II**

* * *

Willam flexed his burnt hand, just as Otto had shown him to do. His flaky red fingers curled into a fist, then stretched back out to their full length. Pain shot through the burnt hand, but it was still an improvement over before. _Healing. Better than yesterday, perhaps._

Although Otto himself had never been burnt, his arm had been injured in a similar fashion long ago. He had even shown Willam the scar; a long ugly thing that twisted along his arm, tender pink against his tan bronze skin. Otto had received the wound while defending Winter from a trio of Terror Birds. The beasts had cornered the lone Direwolf, and he surely would have perished if Otto hadn't intervened. Unfortunately, saving Winter's life hadn't come cost-free. One of the Terror Birds had sheared clean through the flesh on Otto's arm to reveal the sickly white gleam of bone underneath. Of course, the injured arm was fully healed by now, and the offending bird was long-dead.

Yet even still, the arm had itched afterwards, almost like it was on fire, Otto told him. Stretching the muscles had helped return the feeling to his wounded limb, and he thought it would work for Willam as well. Fortunately, it did. Willam had burned himself more badly than he knew by throwing the flaming log. At the time he'd felt nothing. The agony only came afterwards, long after his adrenaline had worn off.

The pain was absolutely hideous. Willam's arm felt as if it were still aflame, burning day and night. His cracked red skin oozed sickly fluid, and there were huge crimson blisters all along the burnt arm. They had bandaged the scorched mess with blue moss, so Willam was spared the ugly sight. Unfortunately, the spongy wrappings did little to dull the pain. Otto and Joseph had discovered the special herb a while back, before Willam had joined them. He was told that the moss possessed healing properties, but even if it did, Willam never felt any difference. Perhaps burns were beyond the healing power of nature.

Willam supposed that he should be grateful. After all, he had gotten off lightly compared to the rest of their group. Otto had taken a devastating bite to the shoulder, the flesh ripped into a bloody pulp by the iron jaws of the alpha Megalosaurus. A patch of blue moss had been tightly secured around the wound, and it actually seemed to work. The bite would leave a nasty scar, yet that was the least of Otto's problems. His shoulder was still healing after being popped back into place. The limb had been dislocated during the chaotic skirmish, when the alpha Megalosaurus had dropped Otto from its full height. Willam shuddered, recalling the dread he had felt watching his friend being lifted so high off the ground.

Joseph's numerous injuries were arguably worse. His entire front half was a patchwork of blood, flesh and moss. One of the Megalosaurus had shredded his chest with its razor-sharp claws. The same beast had devoured Hawk later on, and slammed Joseph into the cliff when he tried to avenge the Dilophosaurus. The impact had fractured many of his bones, mainly from the ribcage. Willam also suspected that Joseph suffered from internal damage, but even if he did, the bulky man hid it well. A walking stick was clutched in his left hand, most of his weight supported by the long wooden shaft.

A loop of vine was bunched in Joseph's right hand, the ends tied onto a flat wooden plank. Otto held a similar bundle, walking side by side with the large man. They dragged a heavy yet delicate quarry behind themselves; Winter. The great white Direwolf rested on the wooden board, his sides heaving as the makeshift sled bumped along the uneven ground. Winter was still recovering from the attack, albeit slowly. He would sleep as often as not, but scan their surroundings with alert golden eyes whenever he was awake.

Winter was barely strong enough to stand. He had nearly died defending Otto during the attack, and still hadn't recovered from his countless wounds. Willam saw all sorts of scars crisscrossing his shaggy white coat; heavy gashes, bite marks, long scrapes and deep punctures. Winter had them all. His fur was stained a dull pink from all the blood he had lost, yet the Direwolf was growing stronger by the hour. He lived off the occasional Dodo bird that Joseph or Otto managed to kill. Willam's egg was tucked against his great shaggy side, although the Direwolf didn't seem to mind. He also shared the sled with a few other items that had been salvaged from their camp; the _Dossier_ , a waterskin, two bows and a handful of arrows.

Willam found it hard to believe that their group had been well and happy just a few days ago. The devastation of the attack had changed them drastically. Their days were no longer lax and carefree, nor were their nights spent in laughter. Everyone was tense and on-edge, suspicious of everything. From the merest whisper to the slightest movement, everything was a cause for alarm. A few days ago, Willam would have hardly recognized their group now, trudging along downcast and sullen, wary and suspicious, every single one of them sporting some horrible wound.

Yet despite their numerous injuries, the survivors were lucky compared to their fallen companions. Hawk and Sarah had both perished in the attack; the small Dilophosaurus devoured by a Megalosaurus, and the Triceratops slain by its packmates. In the end, it had taken three of the ferocious night-devils to bring Sarah down, and the Triceratops had bought just enough time for Willam to come up with his plan. They owed their lives to the two brave beasts, and Willam felt at a loss without their presence. He had only known them for a few days before the attack, yet Willam had always felt safer with the two around.

But now they were both gone, their corpses devoured or buried under a mountain of ash. Willam took a moment of silence to honour their lives and sacrifice. He supposed he should feel fortunate, especially compared to his friends. Yet Willam certainly didn't _feel_ lucky as he trudged along in the gloom, his right arm swathed in moss all the way up to his elbow. Darkness blanketed the entire world, reducing his visibility to a few feet. Strange calls echoed through the night, reminding Willam of the countless beasts nearby, many of which were out hunting for prey. _No_ , he certainly didn't feel lucky.

Willam navigated through the jungle carefully; a misplaced step would mean a sprained ankle or broken bone. Vines, roots and shrubs covered the forest floor like a shifting sea, tinted silver by the moon. The huge white disc was hidden behind a wall of leaves and branches, but a sparse bit of light still peeked through. Willam was grateful for that light as he picked his way along the forest floor, taking extra care to avoid tripping on the vegetation.

He was in the lead of their small group, scoping out the safest trail while the other men dragged the sled behind. The wooden plank left a makeshift path in their wake, the vegetation pressed down from the weight of its contents. Willam could only pray that nothing was following them. Most of their weapons were gone, and they were all injured. _Our group will make easy prey for any half-esteemed predator. Most of us are too weak to even fight back, and those who can will be no match for what the night has to offer._

Yet a small part of Willam still believed they could escape to safety relatively unscathed. After all, they had been lucky so far. Nothing big had noticed their group. . . at least not _yet_. They had been travelling for close to a week now, and the only trouble was from a group of insistent Pegomastax that greedily eyed their meagre possessions. Winter acted as a baggage guard, snarling whenever one drew too close. Other than the occasional thievery attempt, the scavengers left them alone.

There were bigger troubles out in the woods though, and Willam wasn't eager to meet _any_ of them. They sometimes found large footprints in the jungle, or pools of dried blood and shattered bones. The beaches were no different. A swarm of beasts fled along the coast, escaping from the forest fire that Willam had unintentionally created. All sorts of creatures had been driven from their homes, and the mass migration was a perfect opportunity for predators to strike. The fleeing beasts left more corpses on the beach every day, and those in turn attracted more scavengers.

There was a great cloud of smoke that shadowed them as well. The gloomy wraith had observed their progress ever since the attack, when Willam had accidentally set the eastern jungle ablaze. There was so much of the thick smog that the air itself was hazy and irritable. Willam had recently developed a cough, which turned his voice hoarse and raw. He could only hope that it would diminish over time.

Willam shivered, and crossed his arms to conserve warmth. It was getting _colder_ too. He had noticed the rapid decline in temperature a few days ago, during the evening when the jungle had suddenly shifted from warm to cold. It had only been in the night at first, but now the days were growing colder as well. Willam supposed it was because of their gradual migration toward the frozen north.

They had been travelling for nearly a week now. Six days to be exact. They were heading north by northwest along the coast, away from their camp and the Megalosaurus pack, who had fled in the opposite direction. Willam hoped that the fire would keep them away, but he knew it would burn out eventually. Until then, they would just have to put as much distance as possible between themselves and their old home.

The going had been rough, especially at the start. Willam recalled the night of the attack, right after they had escaped. Only Otto and himself had been conscious, but the two men had somehow managed to save their incapacitated friends from the fire. Willam himself had fainted right after they had rescued his egg, and poor Otto had been left to drag everyone to safety on his own.

Willam remembered sputtering to life under a hazy night sky, his friends heaped around him on a sandy beach. There had been a dull roar in his ears, and a vivid orange light that danced along the coast. At first he had mistaken the fire for daylight, and had forgotten all about the attack. Unfortunately, everything came crashing back a moment later. The feast, the fight, the deaths of his friends, the fire, and the smoke.

Willam felt sick as he recalled the savage bloodshed, and fought to keep his dinner down. Then his burnt arm started acting up, and the old man had been reduced to his knees, heaving on the sandy beach. Fire ravaged his arm all over again, pain lancing through the limb as if the flames had never left. Fortunately, the agony dulled a moment later, only to be replaced by the emotional backlash from the attack. His friends were all dead or dying. Their home, the only place Willam had ever truly felt safe, was now a pile of smoking rubble. The Megalosaurus pack could return to finish them off at any moment, and there were countless other dangers lurking in the night.

Yet Willam somehow found the strength to rise and assess the damage. Perhaps organization was a coping method for him, but it helped either way. Joseph and Winter were still unconscious, their limp bodies heaped on the sandy beach. Willam's egg was covered in soot and leaning against Joseph, but otherwise unharmed. Otto was somewhere behind him, grunting in exertion as he dragged the wooden plank toward their broken group. What remained of their hard-earned possessions rested on the blood-stained board. Willam limped over to help his struggling friend.

He took the other end silently, much to Otto's relief. The other man was visibly worn out from dragging everyone to safety, and gave Willam a nod of gratitude. The two friends carried the plank between themselves and set it down on the beach. Otto immediately fell back onto the sand with a groan, exhausted after his long exertion. Willam joined him on the ground a moment later. He stared at the distant horizon and the lapping waves. For a while, neither of them spoke.

"It's my fault," Otto suddenly choked out.

Willam glanced at his friend curiously. His perplexion must have shown, for Otto elaborated a moment later. "The attack. It was my fault."

"Don't be ridiculous," Willam assured him. "It wasn't anyone's fault."

Otto stared at the ocean, his expression as dark as the waves. "I saw the signs. The Dodo remains. The murdered scorpion. And yet I stayed."

"We all saw the signs. We all stayed. Don't blame yourself."

"But you only stayed because I did. You and Joseph. Winter. . . Hawk and Sarah. . . Everyone saw me as a leader, and I failed. I. . . I made a terrible decision and everyone suffered for it."

Willam was silent for a moment before responding. "We all made the decision to stay. Any one of us could have left at any moment. Don't deny it. I've only known you for a few days, but you're not the kind of person to hold a grudge. You're better than that, Otto. So believe me when I say it wasn't your fault. It was our choice too."

Otto still looked unconvinced. He shook his head angrily. "And if I had chosen to leave?"

"We would have followed you either way. You're a good leader and a better man. We trust your judgement."

"A good leader," he scoffed. "Of corpses, maybe. Living men? No." He paused and looked at Willam. "You should lead. You're the smartest person I know. You wouldn't make stupid mistakes like me."

Willam regarded his friend carefully. "Don't ever say that about yourself. One error doesn't make you a horrible leader. It's human nature, we all make mistakes."

"And I made a huge one," Otto muttered.

"Look," Willam said, staring Otto in the eyes. "We follow you because you _are_ a good leader. You might not be the largest or strongest," he said with a nod at Joseph. "Or the oldest and wisest," Willam said in regards to himself. "But we follow _you_ anyway. Do you know why?"

Otto shook his head with a sullen sigh. He still looked skeptical, but Willam went on. "Because of your bravery. Your determination. But mostly, your compassion." Willam gave that a second to sink in.

"You took me in, even though I was only a burden to your group. You saved Joseph from those two Dilophosaurs when you first met, even though he was a complete stranger at the time. You fed Hawk that day on the beach, not for benefit or gain, but because you _cared_. You healed Sarah when she was wounded, purely out of goodwill. You risked your own _life_ to save Winter from those Terror Birds, even though you could have just as easily left him to die. You're a good leader because you care about others," Willam finished.

Otto considered that for a moment. Then, frowning, he asked, "If I care so much about others, then why am I not dead? Hawk, Sarah. . . maybe even Winter. I couldn't save them. It should have been me, but I couldn't save them!" He kicked up a cloud of powdery sand.

"Otto, I saw you throw yourself at that alpha half a dozen times, just to distract it from Winter."

"Then why is he dying, while I'm still alive? I checked his pulse earlier, while you were still unconscious," Otto admitted, staring at the limp white form. "I could _barely_ feel his heartbeat."

Willam considered the question, glancing from Otto to Winter. "Do you understand why he's. . ." _Incapacitated? Unconscious? Dying?_

"Dying." Otto declared. "Don't try to sugarcoat the situation. You can be blunt with me. I know he's dying."

"Dying," Willam confirmed with a solemn nod. "He did it for you. Winter knew that you would do the same for him if your roles were reversed. He did it to repay the kindness you've shown him."

Otto was silent for a long time. It took Willam a moment to realize he was crying, the tears silently running down his face. Willam reached over tentatively, awkwardly, and brushed his friend's shoulder, the lightest of touches. Otto glanced over, his stormy grey eyes glistening in the moonlight.

"Winter. . . Winter was my first friend on this island. He was there from the beginning. The very start. He's saved my life so many times. . . " Otto took a moment a moment to steady his breathing. ". . . and now he might die for it. Any moment might be his last. . ."

Willam gripped his shoulder with firm hands. "You need to be strong. For Winter, Joseph and myself. For Hawk and Sarah. . . it's what they would have wanted." Otto raised his head to meet Willam's gaze. "But most of all, you need to be strong for yourself. Be the man who we chose to follow. Be a leader, Otto."

Otto stared at the sandy beach, then at Winter, Joseph, and finally Willam himself. He managed a small nod, finally coming to terms with their situation. "I'll try my best"

Willam offered to take the first watch, so Otto could recover from the horrors of the attack. His friend accepted, perhaps a bit reluctantly, but he accepted. Willam found Otto the next day, his composure regained. Their conversation seemed to have finally convinced him that the attack wasn't his fault, and Otto was more or less back to his regular self. He took charge of the situation immediately, getting their broken group into order.

They set out west, hoping to put as much distance between themselves and the Megalosaurus pack as possible. Neither Joseph nor Winter had woken, so it was up to Otto and Willam once more. Their comatose friends were stacked on the wooden board and vines were wrapped around the front to form a pair of loose reins. Otto led the way, having recalled the easiest routes in their area. Willam was glad that his friend was back to his confident self. That night, as Willam was setting up a fire, Otto stopped him.

"No fires," he declared.

Willam had protested that the Megalosaurus were afraid of fires. "We'll be safer this way. The beasts tremble at the sight of an open flame. The pack won't trouble us."

"But many other beasts will," Otto finished. "That fire might be good for keeping one monster away, but there are many more in these woods. Light it, and every beast within sight will know where we are. No fires."

And the matter had been settled. A faint smile tugged at Willam's lips as Otto left to check on their wounded companions. His test had worked, and Otto was truly back to normal. Their group had a leader they could depend on, and that made all the difference.

Joseph woke from his coma that night, and their group was all the better for it. There was less weight to be dragged around, and another pair of eyes to watch for enemies in the night. Joseph's injuries were still too great for him to walk unaided, so they fashioned him a walking stick. It would be awhile before Joseph was fully recovered, but it was still a vast improvement from before. Their journey got easier from then on, if only slightly.

Much to everyone's relief, Winter recovered two nights later. The Direwolf's life had been balanced on a sword's edge, perilously hanging over death. Everyone felt much better with him awake, but unfortunately the Direwolf was still too injured to be of any use in a fight. It took Winter considerable effort just to lift his head, and he could barely even stand. Yet Willam still felt better with the huge wolf awake.

Most of their journey was spent in silence. Joseph's was more downcast and mournful. He was obviously still distraught over Hawk's death. The little Dilophosaurus had refused to leave his side, and had been devoured by a Megalosaurus as a result. Willam knew Joseph blamed himself. He had tried to console the large man, but to no avail. Joseph stubbornly resisted his attempts at every turn, preferring to remain in a mood of perpetual depression rather than accept the facts. Yet for all his injuries and self-loathing, Joseph still worked as hard as ever, pulling the wooden sled day and night.

Willam himself remained more alert and attentive. He still read the _Dossier_ in his spare time, which had shrunk significantly because of the attack. Between their long marches and short rests, Willam barely found any time to read. Instead, he would spend their silent treks speculating about the world in general; how they had washed onto the island, who the author of the _Dossier_ was, how the scaled beasts had come to be, the geography of the island, and so much more. He also took constant mental notes of the fauna and flora that they passed on their journey, in case it would be useful later.

Otto had spent the first few days of their journey in an apprehensive yet determined silence. He would trek with his eyes on the horizon, ever solemn. But there was still a gleam of guilt in his eyes, no matter how much Willam tried to convince him otherwise. A small part of Otto that would _always_ blame himself for the attack. It was unfortunate, but some things were beyond the power of Willam's words. He had noticed Otto's concerned glances falling on Winter more than once. Needless to say, Otto had been overjoyed when the Direwolf finally awoke.

The night of Winter's recovery was still fresh on Willam's mind, along with a dozen theories about what had happened that night. Willam had been on the first watch, curled up next to his egg, when Otto had started shifting in his sleep. At first it was only the slightest movements, but he began tossing more and more as the night progressed. Eventually, Otto even began making sounds. Harsh growls and snarls, eerily similar to Winter's. Yet the huge white Direwolf hadn't stirred the whole time.

Willam had just gone to check on Winter when Otto began thrashing around, violently twisting and turning in his sleep. Even Winter had begun to growl; so soft that Willam had to crane his neck to hear, yet man and beast were growling simultaneously. Otto had only grown more unruly afterwards, up to the point when Willam had to shake him awake. After a brief conversation, Otto claimed that he was perfectly fine, and took the next shift to prove it. The last thing Willam remembered that night was seeing Otto lean against a tree, his face strangely pale under the moonlight.

He awoke the next morning to the sight of Winter curled up by Otto's side. Willam was told that the Direwolf had woken shortly after he had gone to sleep. There was nothing wrong about Otto's tone or expression as he explained, yet there was something. . . odd about his behaviour. After a moment of careful prodding, his friend grudgingly revealed the full events of last night. Willam had been absolutely shocked.

Somehow, by some magical phenomenon, Otto Weiss had lived through Winter's life. Even Otto himself was skeptical of the tale at first, but grew more confident as he told it. Willam listened intently. At first he had thought the dream was nothing more than that; just a dream. But Willam began to doubt his own theory as Otto's story progressed. There was just too much detail for it to have been fabricated. Four individual siblings, each with their own distinctive personalities. A massive Direwolf pack with their own complex hierarchy. No, Otto's mind couldn't have conjured all that in just one night.

Even the chronological order of events made sense. Willam had always assumed Winter was somewhere around a year old, and it turned out that he was correct. The young Direwolf had been driven from his home when he was only nine months old. Winter had spent a further three months alone in the wilderness before meeting Otto. That would mean the Direwolf had almost exactly been a year old when Otto first washed ashore. A month and a half had passed since then, bringing Winter's current age to just over a year.

Willam concluded that the dream was real. As baffling as it was, Otto's bond with Winter had somehow allowed him to live through the Direwolf's life. What puzzled Willam was _how_ it had happened. He considered magic. As ridiculous as it was, Willam couldn't fathom any other possible explanations. Otto and Winter had been in similar emotional states. They were both missing home; Otto was distraught over losing the camp, while Winter was reminiscing over his early life. Perhaps this special bond had allowed Otto to connect with his Direwolf on a deeper level.

Either way, Willam was curious to find out more. What was the extent of Otto's power? He had lived through a memory, but could he live through the present? Would he only be able to see through Winter's eyes, or could he form a similar bond with another creature? Would he be able to control the Direwolf's actions? Would he be able to switch consciousness at any time, or was it only while they both slept?

There were countless possibilities to Otto's newfound power. Willam had never seen anything like this before, and was eager to discover the full extent of his friend's bond with the Direwolf. He had already asked Otto to tell him if anything like this happened again. Unfortunately, his friend never reported anything new. Willam was still hopeful that Otto would experience another vision or memory. Until then, he was content to continue speculating about the extent of Otto's new power.

Willam shivered as his breath warmed the air, a misty white cloud against the bleak grey great frosty trees were beginning to thin out, their icy trunks growing farther and farther apart. Willam dropped back until he was walking next to Joseph. The huge man grunted in acknowledgement, but otherwise continued on as normal, his eyes fixed on the horizon. Willam offered to take the sled from Joseph, only for him to stubbornly decline. The large man kept the vine rope firmly bunched in his left hand, while the right grasped his tall walking stick. Willam could see the strain in his arms, the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

"You've been dragging that wooden sled for half the night," Willam said. " Let me take a shift, it's the least I could do."

Joseph glanced at him, looking ready to decline his request. Then he tripped over a root, nearly went down, but managed to regain his balance in time. The huge man grudgingly handed Willam the vine reins, all the defiance drained from his eyes. He immediately leaned against a tree for support, wheezing to catch his breath. Willam nodded in acknowledgement, and looped the vines around his good hand.

Otto had the other side, red-faced and puffing from nearly an entire day of dragging the plank. It was a two person job, and the three men would take turns to conserve their already limited energy. Hopefully Otto would only have to endure a bit longer, enough time for Joseph to recover. Knowing his stubborn nature, the large man would be back in no time at all.

Willam had noticed Joseph's recent state of emotional turmoil. He seldom spoke at all these days, usually only answering questions with grunts or nods. Yet even still, the large man's determination never faltered. In fact, he almost seemed to work harder than before, pulling the sled day and night with a burning new resolve. _I'll have to talk to him about Hawk_ , Willam reflected. _He still blames himself, the poor man._ But Willam knew the Dilophosaur's death wasn't the only thing troubling his friend.

Some deep trauma associated with Joseph's past was haunting him now. Willam recalled that his friend had washed up somewhere around here. He had only realized the coincidence a few days ago, when their group came upon a beach of human corpses. Joseph's backstory had come crashing back, and Willam remembered how his friend had passed this exact beach on his journey to find other humans. Except there were more skeletons now. Where there had only been four corpses before, seven now littered the beach.

It definitely wasn't the friendliest landmark, especially after the attack that had just devastated their broken group. Joseph stared at the bodies with hollow eyes, probably remembering his unhappy beginnings. Or perhaps his mind was elsewhere, imagining all the monstrous beasts that could have killed these people. Maybe accepting the possibility that they were the only living humans on the entire island.

In any case, the beach definitely wasn't prompting a happy response. Joseph silently turned away and gave the sled a forceful tug. They set out again, disheartened by the miserable sight. None of the other remains helped their mood either.

They passed the legacies of deceased survivors; campfires of ash, splintered wooden lean-tos, dried puddles of blood, heaps of rubble, and shattered bones. There were so many signs of human life, yet no living humans. Their group even passed the place where Joseph had sheltered during his first night on the island; a low overhanging cliff flanked by pine trees on either side. There was still the burnt out fire from when Joseph had taken refuge, but a few new changes as well.

For one, wooden spikes had been staked in a loose ring around the cliff, much like their old camp. A grave had been dug for the skeleton, the loose dirt pressed down by a heavy grey tombstone. The previous inhabitant had been compassionate, Willam noted. . . but now they were dead as well. A fresh corpse was laying face-down in the dirt, a rough wooden spear gripped in its hands. There was another carcass by its side; a long scaly green body with a pair of bright frills on either side of its head. The two combatants were locked in their eternal struggle. . . or so Willam thought.

Further examination revealed that the Dilophosaurus wasn't even facing the human, but rather some unseen foe outside the wooden barrier. Willam also noticed that there were two sleeping cots, not one. A large clump of dried grass was heaped in one corner, with a smaller pile beside it. There were even a few bones strewn about the camp, but not from leftover meals. They had tooth-marks etched all along their sides; chew toys for the Dilophosaurus. The signs could only mean one thing. The beast had been domesticated.

Joseph turned away when he came to the realization, still distraught over Hawk's death. The tragic scene probably reminded him too much of his own friendship and loss. But Willam had been more curious, even going so far as to examine a bone. _So other people have domesticated these beasts as well._ It was a strange thought. Willam had always known that there were other people on the island, or rather their remains, but he thought of their group as the only ones who had managed to tame the beasts. This shocking revelation had brought new light to their situation.

Perhaps things weren't so hopeless after all. _If other beasts have been tamed, there might still be hope for us yet. Hope for civilization, or the closest thing to it on this island. But I can only hope. . ._ If other people had managed to tame these beasts, they might just stand a chance to survive. Willam could imagine a whole new society on this island, where man and beast coexisted in peace. Fields could be ploughed and walls could be raised with the help of domesticated creatures. But where good could be done, there was always room for evil. Carnivores could be used to hunt and kill just as easily as a herbivore might plough a field. _War could be waged._

Willam shuddered at the thought. His gaze swept over the ruined camp one last time before turning away, as Joseph had done before him. The large man had already set off again, singlehandedly dragging the sled along. Willam hastily followed.

They passed by even more signs of human life later; burnt out campfires, smashed lean-tos, abandoned weapons, and more bodies. None of the following survivors had been as advanced as the first. Most only had blunt stones and sticks for tools, and none had tamed any beasts. A few of the corpses still stuck out in Willam's mind.

There had been two skeletons heaped against a blood-stained boulder, one cradled in the other's arms. Further on, a wooden lean-to had been splattered with blood, and there were broken bones and weapons strewn about the clearing. Willam regarded both sites with pity for the poor souls who had perished. A bit later, the group came across another survivor who had put up a better fight. The corpse was fresher than the others, with most of the features still intact, and it was easy to tell it had been a woman. A Raptor corpse was sprawled at her feet, slashed a dozen times by the survivor's axe.

What had stunned Willam most was a single corpse in the woods. It was much smaller than the others, only coming up to Willam's chest. He felt completely sick. _A child. . . a child washed onto this hell. They couldn't have been more than ten. . . What sort of twisted demon is capable of such evil?_

As they came across more sites, Willam could sense the others growing more distraught. The same thought was on everyone's minds. _Are we next?_ It was definitely possible, especially with the state their group was in. Willam tried to push his doubts aside, but he couldn't help wondering how all those people had died. _Some deaths were more recent. . . if we had come this way sooner, when we should have left, would we have been able to help them in time?_ Willam could tell the question had troubled his friends as well. He could see it in their faces, in the way they looked at the corpses.

Joseph seemed especially troubled. _Because he's been this way before_ , Willam realized. _He passed some corpses on his journey to find other humans. But he wouldn't have guessed there would be others after him. . ._ Willam glanced at the large man trudging along up ahead. _He probably blames himself, the poor man. But their deaths weren't his fault, he couldn't have known others would wash up. I'll have to go talk to him._

Just then, Joseph whirled around and called for them to hurry. Willam shared a confused glance with Otto, before the two rushed after their friend. Even Winter perked up from his spot on the wooden board, head swivelled toward Joseph's direction. Willam strained against the uneven ground, roots and shrubs tugging at the sled.

They pulled up next to Joseph, breathless and panting. He pointed at something in the distance. "Look."

Willam glanced up and saw an icy white field of snow bordered by tall dark pines. Rugged boulders laced the plains, breaking up the monotone sight. A huge grey mountain loomed far beyond the snow-topped trees, the sun peeking out from behind its craggy heights. The sky was azure blue, dotted with wispy purple clouds and spangled with the orange of dawn.

"We're here," Joseph said as they took the sight in. "We've reached the north."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Aaand that brings us to the end of our first story arc!**

 **No one cried this chapter... I hope?** **Don't worry, it's safe now. I promise that I'm done stabbing you in the heart. Well, at least for now...**

 **Girlbook, I'm happy that Winter's alright as well! As for the vision, its more of a fantasy power-type deal than anything from ARK, ex: ARK primal or play as a dino mod.**

 **TheJaiganticBridge, wow... I wasn't expecting to break any records, but hey, I'll take it!**

 **King Endercreeper, Thanks! And yes, this is Otto's special gift/power. You were also right to assume the focus of this chapter. Anyways, thanks for the continued support!**

 **DevoutRelic, it's alright, I'm done with your feelings ;) Well, for now at least... And yes, I have definitely replaced sci-fi with fantasy in my story. As for posting, the next chapter should be out in time. This one was a bit late due to the last one taking up so much effort, and also how my personal schedule kept interfering.**

 **NightWyvern91792, thanks for the praise! Unfortunately/fortunately, I'm sticking with this story, so no wolf book for now :( And yes, I completely agree. Winter's father would definitely have won if it had been a fair fight.**

 **haydenunstopable, I'm glad someone brought this question up. There's a lot of reasons**

 **1\. To show the common saying 'the higher you climb, the harder you fall'**

 **2\. Emotional development for our surviving characters (they'll definitely behave differently after this)**

 **3\. To make my story better. After all, what sort of writer doesn't kill off at least _some_ of his/her ****characters?**

 **As for Winter's future revenge, it's already planned, so unfortunately there will be no bottom-of-ice-lake-drowning for our least favorite Direwolf.**

 **Julius, thanks for taking the time to check out my story and leave a review! I hope you liked it!**

 **BlackHum3r, sorry if it wasn't clear enough, but Weiss = Otto's last name. I've changed the summary so it's more clear, and sorry for the mixup. I think you missed it, but** **there was a note at the beginning of chapter 5 that explained this.**

 **Tall-Gothic-Guy, yes that was definitely spirit walking (or at least a variation). You are also right in assuming that I have replaced sci-fi with fantasy. Anyways, sorry for missing your review before. I'll be sure to double check next time.**

 **Thanks for taking the time to check out my first fanfiction, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I will try my best to upload every Friday. Feel free to comment, ask question or criticize my story, review is always welcome. And i** **f you like what you saw, make sure to check out the other ARK: Survival Evolved fanfictions out there. Have a great rest of your day or night.**

 **-DaRumpyBurr**


	11. Joseph III

**Joseph III**

* * *

The trees stood row upon row, ancient warriors armored in bark and leaf awaiting the command to storm the hill. Joseph shifted his grip on the bow uneasily. It wasn't so much the trees that bothered him, but rather the _things_ that hid beneath their dark branches. The trees had been waiting for _years_ to take the hill, and it would be many more before they finally succeeded. The beasts that hid in their shadows, on the other hand. . .

 _Best if it doesn't come to that._ Joseph gave the forest another dark glare before shifting to his right. The icy white field hadn't changed since his last glance, still just as barren and bleak as before. He scanned the frosty steppe carefully, trying to pick out every movement regardless of how small. _Nothing but the wind_. Joseph turned away when he was satisfied nothing was camouflaged against the snow. Experience had taught him to be wary of everything on the island. _If only I had learnt that lesson long ago, before the. . ._

 _No. Don't think about it._ Joseph couldn't hope to fix the past, but perhaps he could still change the future. _We'll never be taken by surprise again. Not if I can help it._ The large man turned once more, facing the craggy grey mountain that sat opposite from the forest. The great stone wraith was closer than it looked, Joseph knew. Grey mist shrouded its icy peak, making the mountain seem like it was days away. In reality, it was only a few hours of walking, maybe less. Joseph couldn't be too sure in his wounded state.

A sharp gust of wind knifed through his clothes, plunging a thousand icy blades into his flesh. Joseph shivered and crossed his arms. It was _cold_ out here. Too cold for his liking, or anyone else's for that matter. Their group hadn't been prepared for the icy climate, not even Winter, who was unaccustomed to his former home after months of living in warmer lands. The Direwolf was already growing a thicker coat, but the humans had to find different solutions. Their fires blazed day and night to keep the chill at bay, yet sometimes even _that_ wasn't enough.

Joseph cursed the cold as he thawed his frozen hands over the torch by his feet, teeth chattering like a troop of monkeys. The flames twisted and twirled like a score of dancers cloaked in red, licking at the air with greedy tongues. Joseph felt the warmth soak into his stiff fingers, and he sighed in relief. The torch was jammed into a rocky crevice to prevent it from blowing over in the wind. Joseph always kept it close at hand. The fire provided some degree of comfort. . . yet he was still _freezing_ all the same. _Still too damned cold. I wonder if I'll ever be warm again._

Their group had fled into the north with nothing but the clothes on their backs and a few meagre possessions salvaged from the fire. Joseph knew they would have to make some new clothes eventually. His hide tunic was torn down the front, shredded by the claws of a Megalosaurus that had attacked their former camp. Joseph had done his best to repair the tattered shirt with moss and plant fibres, but the adjustments did little to protect him from the cold. He shivered as another sharp gust of wind cut through the tattered hide. _We'll need warmer clothes. And soon, before I freeze to death in this blasted cold._

Giant birds wheeled around the icy mountain peak in lazy circles, their sharp eyes scanning for prey. _Argentavis_ , they were called. The massive birds had huge claws and even larger wings, each one about as wide as Joseph was tall. They would be able to snatch him up easily. A few of the larger ones could even lift Winter. Yet Joseph wasn't worried about the birds.

"Scavengers," Willam had told him. "Carrion birds that prefer to feed on corpses rather than living prey. They'll still hunt smaller creatures occasionally. They might even go after you if they're hungry enough,"

 _And they'll sprout some new feathers if they do._ Joseph kept his bow close at hand. None of the birds had attacked him yet, but he could never be too sure. _It makes no matter. Beaks and talons are no match for a good bow and a handful of arrows._ Even if the Argentavis attacked, Joseph could always shoot them down long before they got anywhere close to him. A well-placed arrow to the wing would send any birdspiralling out of control. But arrows or not, he would prefer it if the Argentavis left him alone entirely. Joseph made sure to keep an eye on the peak, just in case.

The beasts that concerned him were prowling the mountain slopes much farther down. Sleek and muscular, the Saber-Toothed Tigers made an impressive sight as they stalked around the base of the mountain. Unlike most of the other northern predators, the huge cats relied on ambush tactics to bring their prey down. The Sabercats barely made any sound, and Joseph had to constantly watch the mountain slopes lest one sneak up on him. The huge cats were around the same size as Winter, if not smaller. They were solitary hunters, yet Joseph had no doubts about their ability to kill.

He had watched Megaloceros falling to the stealthy beasts half a dozen times already. The huge elk, no matter how large or swift, were no match for the deadly hunters. Joseph knew he wouldn't stand a chance if one of the huge cats took him by surprise. He never left the mountain slopes unwatched for too long. The threat of a Sabertooth attack was so great that Joseph cautioned his companions to do likewise whenever they were on watch. Luckily, their efforts paid off, and nobody had been attacked by one of the huge cats yet.

Joseph swept his gaze across the rocky boulders, looking for a flash of fur. Nothing. He cursed and lowered his gaze, searching every shadow as his eyes worked their way down the mountain. _When did they disappear? I could have sworn there were cats up there just a moment ago. .._ The evasive Saber-Toothed Tigers were already difficult to find, but the job was made even harder still by a thin line of trees that grew around the mountain's base. Although pitiful compared to the neighbouring forest to the east, the trees still provided cover for predators of all sorts. Joseph didn't like that one bit. He vowed to take an axe to the forest one day, when his strength was recovered.

Until then, Joseph would just have to take extra care when it came to his surroundings. He scanned the mountain one last time to make sure he hadn't missed any Sabercats. The slopes were completely empty, save for a lone Daeodon who hadn't even spotted him yet. The beast's snout was glued to the ground as it shuffled around in an endless search for food. Even if the Daeodon _did_ notice him, Joseph would hear it coming from miles away. He turned again, this time overlooking a huge lake.

The water sparkled in the sunlight; azure and cerulean, silver and diamond, pearl and sapphire. The colour shifted constantly, taking on different hues to match the sky. A gentle gust of wind buffeted the surface, distorting its otherwise mirror-like perfection. Joseph could see straight through the crystal clear water, right down to the lake's muddy bottom. The water was fresh, he knew. The discovery had been one of his very first upon entering the north. All their drinking water came from the huge lake, although a thin layer of ice had to be cracked during cold weather.

Joseph scanned the shore but found no particular threats. A herd of Megaloceros lapped at the water, while a few Wooly Rhinoceros splashed in the shallows. A trio of Hyaenodons watched the herbivores with interest, but the beasts were on the opposite bank, helpless to do anything but observe. Joseph allowed himself a brief moment to watch the various creatures at their antics before turning again.

 _Back to the forest_ , he thought. Joseph scanned the trees carefully, trying to pick out movement from their murky shadows. It was a tedious chore. The forest stretched east as far as he could see, a vast tangle of leaf and branch painted in a thousand shades of green. Dark pines and ancient oaks fought for dominance over the forest, each raising warriors to overwhelm the other. The oaks ruled in the far east, but the pines grew more plentiful closer to the north.

The entire forest was tinged with frost, giving the trees a magical look as they sparkled in the sunlight. When the wind blew, Joseph could hear the creaks and groans of ancient branches. Thousands of leaves fluttered, and for a moment the forest seemed like a deep green sea, storm-tossed and heaving. There was a sudden flash of movement in the corner, white against green. Joseph mistook it for a snow-capped tree at first, but with a pang of alarm, he realized it was still moving.

A white shadow padded between two frosty trunks, its fur gleaming in the sunlight. The beast turned and locked eyes with Joseph. Two golden orbs gleamed as the Direwolf looked him up and down. Recognition flashed through its eyes, just as Joseph came to a similar conclusion. He immediately sighed in relief, relaxing his grip on the bow.

Winter turned away just as his master emerged from the trees, a tall wooden spear in one hand, and a torch in the other. Otto Weiss thrust his weapon into the snow, three fresh Salmon dangling from its tip. He spotted Joseph and waved. The large man returned his gesture.

Otto nodded and turned to the nearest tree, long dead by its looks. He set his torch down and replaced it with a heavy stone axe from the belt on his waist. Otto shifted into a two-handed grip, for his left shoulder was still too weak on its own. He adjusted his stance before swinging, all his weight behind the thrust. Splinters flew everywhere as the crude weapon lodged itself in the tree with a heavy _thunk_. Otto grit his teeth and wrenched it loose before swinging again.

Winter limped to his master's side and sat on his haunches, watching in silence. The great white Direwolf had regained enough of his strength to hobble around, though he still needed constant breaks. The scars on his shaggy white coat were beginning to fade, slowly getting replaced by tender pink flesh and soft white fur. Joseph knew it would be awhile before Winter recovered completely. The Direwolf was still too weak to hunt, but perhaps his mere presence would be enough to keep the other beasts away.

Joseph scanned the forest again, watching for anything that might be sneaking up on his friends. He had a better vantage point from his position on the hill than either Otto or Winter. A few leaves stirred in the wind, and shadows shifted on the floor. There was no movement apart from the trees. Joseph glanced back at Otto to check on his progress. The axe had sheared through nearly half the trunk, and there were countless wood chips scattered around the tree. Winter was curled up on the snow, apparently already having sensed the lack of danger.

As always, the Direwolf was right. Joseph couldn't detect anything in the forest, hard as he tried. He misliked those woods. Anything could be hiding in those shadows, just waiting for a chance to strike. Worse still, the forest stretched east, back toward their old camp. Joseph trembled to think the Megalosaurus pack was somewhere in those woods, probably only a week away. _Or even less_ , he told himself. It was true that their group had taken a week to reach the north, but Joseph knew the Megalosaurus were in a much better condition than themselves.

Every member of their group had been injured. Winter spent the entire journey being dragged along on a wooden sled, too weak to even walk. That accursed wooden board had slowed them down more than Joseph cared to discover. His shoulders still ached from pulling the heavy burden day and night. With nothing to slow them down, the Megalosaurus would reach the north much faster. If he had to guess, Joseph would say the pack would take four or five days at the most. Two or three if they knew the way. The thought was very unsettling.

 _They won't trouble us though_ , a small part of him whispered. The beasts had been scared away by the forest fire Willam created. They were probably weeks away by now, on the far eastern side of the island. But in the case that they did pursue, which Joseph found unlikely, the monsters wouldn't last a day in the north.

"They're cold blooded," Willam had declared. "The Megalosaurus will freeze up and die within hours of entering the north. We shouldn't need to worry about them ever again."

 _Let's hope it stays that way._ Joseph was glad he would never have to see the monsters again. Or at least he _hoped_ he wouldn't. A gust of wind howled through the forest, tossing leaves and shaking branches. Joseph stared at the shifting green sea, imagining all the monsters that could be lurking under its leafy green waves. _Forget the Megalosaurus. . . forget what happened. You have new concerns to worry about now._

Indeed, living in the north had been a drastic change from their former home. _Easier but harder_ , Joseph thought. The attack flashed before his eyes, just a glimpse, so short it may have been his imagination. Joseph watched those bloody jaws clamp shut, a scaly green limb drop to the scarlet dirt. . . _Warmer but colder_. He shuddered.

 _Don't think about it._ Joseph concentrated on Otto's axe as it swung back and forth, dislodging a fine spray of wood. _Forget about the attack. It will be like it never happened if you just forget. . ._ He watched the crude stone axe-head smash against wood, the sound ringing in his ears until everything else faded away. _Focus on the present._

The north was a welcome reprieve from the southeast. Everything was so much _cleaner_ here, more straightforward. There weren't any scaled monsters that stalked poor survivors at night, or huge swathes of trees, shrub, and bush that hid the beasts from wary eyes. In fact, there was barely any vegetation at all. Most of the north was composed of snowy fields or hills, with only the occasional forest in between.

Joseph was glad to be rid of jungles, damp, humid, and _deadly_ as they were. He'd had enough of the close-pressed trees for a lifetime. _If our camp had only been a bit farther away from that awful jungle, we could have seen them coming. . . Those accursed Megalosaurus only got so close without us noticing because of the dense vegetation._ Joseph sighed. There wasn't anything he could do about the past, no matter how hard he tried.

 _But maybe I can still change the future._ Joseph silently vowed to himself that he would never be taken by surprise again. The job was certainly easier now, with wide open plains in place of dark gloomy jungles. Predators had a _much_ harder time sneaking up on you in the north. _Except maybe that forest._ Joseph gave the trees another cursory sweep, only to come up empty handed again. At least Winter hadn't stirred. Joseph trusted the huge Direwolf's instincts more than anyone else.

Otto strapped his axe back in place. All that remained of the dead tree was a grey stump and some logs at his feet. Joseph watched as his friend retrieved the wooden sled from their new camp and began loading the lumber away. Winter rose and limped after his master as Otto dragged the goods back to their camp. His spear was balanced over the logs, and his torch was in hand. The three salmon jolted with every bump of the sled. Joseph licked his lips in anticipation of the meal.

Sabertooth Salmon were harder to catch than the docile Coelacanth they were used to, but Joseph thought the effort was well worth it. The Salmon's meat was tender and delicate, fresh and savoury. It always tasted delicious, whether smoked, charred or fried. Coelacanth, on the other hand, had an oily and bitter taste that would leave Joseph's stomach heaving after a meal. The only way he could manage the fish were smoked, and even then they _still_ tasted bad. Yet for all their shortcomings, Coelacanth were still much easier to acquire than Salmon.

Surprisingly, the northern fish had razor-sharp teeth in their mouths that could dig into flesh like barbed hooks. Joseph himself had never been bitten, nor had any of his companions, but just looking at the sharp fangs made him wince. The Salmon generally travelled in schools through rivers or streams, but Joseph would occasionally spot one in their lake. The rare sightings didn't come as a big surprise, for the lake fed into a shallow stream. The forest grew along its banks, following the water as it meandered away from its source. The stream ran north by northeast into the ocean, but there was plenty of distance between their camp and the sea.

Getting lost wasn't an issue at the very least. Joseph could always find his way back to their camp by following the stream. He had already wandered along the icy banks a few times with the rest of their group as they hunted for dinner. Fortunately, the fish were fairly easy to spear so long as you took them by surprise.

Otto was by far the best at fishing. His spear would dart into the water, quick as a snake, and burst out with a Salmon squirming on the end. Joseph had much more difficulty catching the fish unaware. They always seemed ready to dart away, no matter how silently he approached. Even when he did miraculously spear a Salmon, it was always sure to be the smallest catch of the day. Fishing obviously wasn't meant for him.

Joseph still worked at it day and night, no matter how many times he failed. Fishing was their primary source of food, and it would continue to hold that title so long as their group was too weak to hunt. Every northern herbivore was either too swift or large for them to take down. Joseph supposed they could try their hands at slaying some of the weaker carnivores, but only as a final resort. They had a nearly endless supply of fish, at least until the river froze solid in winter. But winter was still far off, years away, if Otto's wolf dream could be believed. _Besides, there are other ways to live off the land._

Indeed, Joseph himself had discovered a grove of frozen berry bushes only a few days ago. Every branch, leaf and berry was encased by a thin layer of ice, yet the plants miraculously survived. The frost wasn't a problem either, for the berries could be thawed by fire. And although they weren't as fresh as their southern counterparts, the berries were still very much edible. _We won't need to hunt anytime soon. Better to regain our strength first._ Joseph shifted his grip on the bow. If they were lucky, he wouldn't need to bring anything down with it just yet. Their group would only hunt when they were ready. For now, they were perfectly content living on a diet of fish and berries.

Joseph watched Otto draw closer and closer until he disappeared behind the crest of a neighbouring hill, the Salmon disappearing with him. Thin grey wisps of smoke climbed toward the heavens from where he had vanished, marking the firepit in the center of their camp. Willam had kept the fire blazing all day, feeding it logs whenever the flames shrunk. There was a constant stench of smoke and soot, but Joseph knew the air would soon be rich with the scent of fried Salmon. His stomach growled in anticipation, and it was all Joseph could do to refrain from drooling. _Stay alert_ , he warned himself. _The scent will attract others. Don't let them take you by surprise._

Joseph had quickly discovered that meals attracted lots of unwanted company in the north. The scent of frying meat drew beasts from miles around, scavengers and predators both. Free meals weren't easily passed up here, where you could go days on end without food. Joseph tightened his grip on the bow. He wasn't eager to let anything have _his_ dinner.

There was a flash of movement somewhere to the right. Joseph whirled around, bow in hand. Prowling through the field was a fully grown Sabertooth Tiger, pitch black against the snow. Joseph froze with terror. _You fool,_ he berated. _You let your guard down for one second, and now you'll die for it!_ Joseph shook himself from the daze, his heart hammering against his chest. The Sabertooth gradually picked its way toward the camp, sniffing the air with every few steps. Joseph let out a sigh of relief. The beast hadn't seen him yet.

There was still time to act, but Joseph had to move swiftly. He was as good as dead if the Sabertooth noticed him now. It was at the foot of his hill and rising fast. Joseph plucked an arrow out of the ground and nocked it to his bow. There were half a dozen other shafts thrust into the ground at his feet, their bright feathers rippling in the wind. The Sabertooth was a quarter of the way up. Joseph drew the bowstring to his ear and took aim. The huge cat froze. It had detected his scent.

Joseph let the arrow fly just as the Sabertooth's head snapped up to meet his gaze, those green eyes boring into his soul. The projectile flew straight and true, cutting through the air like a knife. It sailed straight for the beast's head, the flint arrowhead gleaming in the golden glare of dusk. The monstrous cat twisted away at the last possible instant, and the arrow only grazed its ear when it should have punctured through the beast's skull.

The Sabertooth landed with a hiss, its dark coat bristling with aggression. Joseph already had a second arrow nocked to his bow, its razor-sharp tip aimed at the beast. The Sabertooth hissed and glared at him with eyes full of malice. It seemed to contemplate the situation, weighing risk against reward. Finally, it gave one last defiant roar before whirling around in full retreat. The lean black shadow raced over the snowy field until it disappeared from sight.

Joseph sighed in relief. A sheen of sweat dotted his brow, and his heart was beating faster than a Gallimimus. He cautiously lowered the bow but didn't relax his grip. There could be others nearby. A quick scan revealed that nothing else was within sight, though Joseph kept his bow ready anyway. He glanced at the distant treeline where the Sabertooth had disappeared. Nothing.

A bright flash of red caught Joseph's eye. It was the arrow he had just used, its feather fluttering in the wind. As much as Joseph despised leaving the safety of the hill, he knew it would have to be retrieved. They were already short on resources, and only seven arrows remained. The extra projectile could mean the difference between life and death if they were ever attacked. Joseph gave his surroundings a quick glance before retrieving his walking staff in preparation for the descent.

Its handle was coated with a thin layer of frost and dirt from lying on the ground. Joseph pressed most of his weight into the stick as he rose, cursing his aching limbs all the while. He slung the bow over his shoulder and snatched his torch from its niche in the ground. Joseph grabbed two arrows and shifted them into his right hand, pressing them against his staff. He tested the ground with the stick before setting downward at a slow hobble. Slick patches of ice tried to make him slip, and the wind pounded his face with invisible fists. Pain flared through his broken ribs with every step, and the huge scabs on his chest threatened to reopen under the exertion. Joseph didn't falter, setting one foot after the other.

He had to lean against boulders for support, and shuffle down the slope with awkward half-steps, but Joseph eventually reached his arrow. He snatched the troublesome projectile up and scanned his surroundings for trouble. Nothing. . . at least as far as he could tell. There was no way of knowing if some beast had taken his spot at the top of the hill; you could see down from its peak, but not back up. Joseph shivered and held his torch closer. There was a _long_ climb ahead.

The hill wasn't particularly tall or steep, but it was _large._ Even in perfect condition, it would have taken Joseph a few minutes to climb from foot to crest. Fortunately, the slope was gentle, with only a few unruly rocks and crags that threatened to send him sprawling on the ground. Joseph pressed himself against boulders wherever they sat, hugging their great grey flanks as he shimmied up the hill. He wheezed from the exertion, his chest feeling ready to burst. Agony lanced through his broken ribs with every step, bright and blinding. Joseph took frequent rests, more than he had on the way down. He was red-faced and puffing by the time he pulled onto the top, yet amazingly still alive.

Joseph collapsed into the side of a boulder, panting to catch his breath. He was still gasping for air when he heard the shout. _Willam_ , he had time to register. The old man's shout was filled with the unmistakable tone of fear. Joseph was on his feet at once, hobbling toward the camp as fast as he could manage. No more shouts followed, which could be bad or good. In either case, Joseph made haste.

He limped down the hill and started up its neighbour, a squat mound of dirt and stone that was even smaller than the first. Rocks and crevices reached out to trip him, but Joseph skirted around every obstacle. He pulled to a stop at the crest, wheezing like a fish out of water. The camp lay out before him.

In the very center was a huge firepit, rimmed by a circle of soot-stained rocks. There was a large flat stone suspended above the leaping flames by a pair of sturdy logs. The three Salmon that Joseph had spied earlier were already lain over its scalding surface, grease pooling around their sleek silver bodies. Joseph turned away from the meal with some difficulty, straining to ignore its heavenly aroma. He swept his gaze over the rest of the camp.

Their sleeping cots were still untouched for the day. Four piles of dried grass huddled beneath a small stone overhang. The alcove was flanked by a pair of sturdy boulders, effectively forming a natural shelter. It protected them from the worst of the elements at night. The wooden sled lay nearby, still loaded with the lumber Otto had gathered earlier that day. A similar pile of logs lay against a nearby rock, untouched materials that would eventually be raised as new fortifications. A few of the sturdier ones had already been sharpened at the ends in preparation for staking.

Joseph spotted a pile of crude tools in one corner, and the _Dossier_ in another. Barely anything from their old camp had survived the attack, and their group had been busy replacing their lost possessions. Joseph limped down the hill, a knife twisting into his chest with every step. He stopped near the weapon pile, where a small crowd had formed. His companions were gathered around something, watching it with an equal mix of fear and excitement. Joseph found a spot between Otto and Willam, puffing as he pushed through.

It was the egg. A long crack was etched along its shell, sharp and jagged against the smooth grey surface. Joseph watched as the huge orb shuddered again, the crack growing larger. A spiderweb of fractures forked away from the center. Joseph thought he heard a distant squeak, but it was hard to tell with the wind howling at his ears. The egg rolled onto its side, wobbling as more cracks yawned open. The misty orb gave one final shudder before splitting open.

A short grey snout burst through the shell, pushing broken shards away as it emerged. Joseph watched in awe as the shell broke away on either side, leaving a small grey beast squirming on the ground. It threw its head back and cried out, beady black eyes opening to the world for the first time. The two dark orbs locked onto Willam, and the creature immediately chirped in delight. Joseph had unknowingly taken a step back, as had his other companions.

But now Willam approached again, drawn in by pure curiosity. He tentatively reached for the hatchling with his good hand fully extended.

The infant's eyes closed in pure delight as it nuzzled the outstretched hand affectionately. Willam smiled as the beast rumbled. He gently stroked its scaly head, and the hatchling seemed to almost purr. Joseph could not help but smile at the sight.

"He's magnificent," Willam declared in awe.

The infant had a gleaming hide of silvery grey scales that shone by the light of the fire. Just like his eggshell, the hatchling's scales were interspersed with an occasional splash of blue. Cobalt and cerulean danced along the infant's back and ran all the way down his tail. A creamy white underbelly shone like gold in the torchlight. Two obsidian orbs glimmered with curiosity as the beast tilted his head, taking everything in. Willam stroked the hatchling's back, and he chirped in delight.

"But what is it?" Otto cut in. He had instinctively reached for his spear, still bloodstained from the Salmon. Perhaps sensing his master's hostility, Winter snarled and backed away.

Willam glanced at his friend. "Isn't it obvious? The distinctive jaw, the powerful tail, small

arms, and sharp teeth. We're looking at Tyrannosaurus Dominum. The king of the island."

Joseph glanced at the beast curiously. Perhaps it wasn't his place to judge, but Joseph could have sworn the Tyrannosaurus he saw on the beach had looked different. This hatchling's jaw was long and round whereas the adult's had been short and square. In comparison to their bodies, the hatchling had a much thicker tail than his elder. Joseph also realized that the fully grown Tyrannosaurus only had a single crest above each eye, whereas the infant had two on either side. A row of short spikes ran from the top of the hatchling's head, along his back and down his tail. Joseph only recalled the adult as having a smooth ridge in that same spot.

 _Don't be ridiculous. You're seeing connections that don't exist. Willam's right and you're wrong._ Joseph tried to tell himself that he was just imagining the differences, but he couldn't help feeling like something was off. _I'm sure I don't remember any of these features on the adult. That spikey ridge would be hard to miss. . . maybe I just remember wrong?_ Joseph shook his head in frustration. He still felt as if something wasn't right, despite Willam's conclusions. _This beast before us isn't a Tyrannosaurus Dominum, I've never felt more certain of anything in my life. But if the hatchling isn't a Tyrannosaurus. . . then what is he?_

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Sorry for the short chapter! Apart from the egg hatching there weren't a lot of interesting events, so I got a bit bored. Anyways, name suggestions! Let me know what you'd like our new quote-un-quote "Tyrannosaurus" (wink wink, nudge nudge) to be called.**

 **Girlbook, Joseph is definitely... coping (trying to pretend the attack never happened) Anyways, in regards to your questions**

 **1\. I have a current total of five major arcs planned for the moment (including the first one), but this might change in the future.**

 **2\. Definitely**

 **3\. I think I already answered your third question with this chapter ;)**

 **BlackHum3r, we'll have to see about the Raptors, but they are definitely possible tames. Base building will commence in the chapters to come, and yes, they probably won't last long in hide.**

 **ItsJustCrow, thanks for the support! I'm glad you've enjoyed my story so far. I hope you'll like these new chapters just as much!**

 **DevoutRelic, T_T I'm trying not to kill anyone else off, I swear! For now, the characters are on the slow road of recovery. Anyways, well... didn't mean to make everyone hate Megalosaurus so much. XD maybe throwing the poor beast off the tallest mountain in the game was just a bit too much... Yeah, just a bit. Hope your tribe forgives you. If you need help convincing them, you can always show them chapter 9 ;)**

 **Tall-Gothic-Guy, back to the land of harsh memories indeed! I will definitely have children in the story, girls and boys both. But rest assured, I'm not killing any of them off.**

 **Thanks for taking the time to check out my first fanfiction, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I will try my best to upload every Friday. Feel free to comment, ask question or criticize my story, review is always welcome. And i** **f you like what you saw, make sure to check out the other ARK: Survival Evolved fanfictions out there. Have a great rest of your day or night.**

 **-DaRumpyBurr**


	12. Willam III

***Second half has been added**

* * *

 **Willam III**

* * *

The slick red blob _squelched_ as Willam cupped it with his good hand. Blood oozed from the half-frozen meat as his fingers clenched, but Willam didn't mind at all. Argentum saw the treat and chirped in delight, head tilted to the side with his tiny arms waggling in the air. Willam grinned at his young charge and shook the prize. The little Tyrannosaurus snapped his jaws together in frustration, pleading with a pair of soft amber eyes. Willam couldn't resist the affectionate display, no matter how hard he tried. _My only weakness is this adorable little creature._

Willam grudgingly drew his arm back and tossed the meat underhand. It spun end over end before landing with an audible _thump_ and rolling to a stop, encased by a thin coat of dust. Argentum's head swivelled as the red blob sailed overhead, his amber eyes locked on the prize. The infant was on the meat as soon as it touched the ground. His silvery grey jaws closed around the bloody slab, pearly white teeth digging into the glistening red flesh. The young Tyrannosaurus threw his head back and swallowed the meat with half a dozen savage bites. Willam grinned despite the blood splattered over his new fur cloak.

He retrieved another slab of meat from the rapidly disappearing pile by his feet. Argentum sniffed the air inquisitively, noticed the treat, and whirled around to plead for more. Willam gave the bloody chunk another playful shake. The Tyrannosaurus lunged, but came up short when Willam twisted away. "You'll have to be faster than that!" He taunted, grinning.

Argentum growled softly and tried to snatch the meat once more, only for Willam to sidestep again. The little Tyrannosaurus attempted a third time, then a fourth, but only to the same results as before. Willam allowed himself a thin smile as the infant backed away reproachfully. He shook the meat one last time before tossing it up high, so Argentum would have more time to react. The young Tyrannosaurus instantly perked up, amber eyes locked on the spinning prize. He took two half-steps and leapt, small legs kicking for balance.

Argentum's jaws closed around the meat in midair, intercepting the treat mere moments before it hit the ground. The hatchling wrenched his head back and devoured the morsel whole, his eyes gleaming in delight. Willam smiled when the young Tyrannosaurus turned around with his head cocked to the side. Argentum chirped and hopped closer, his little arms wriggling in anticipation. Willam reached down for another slab of meat and tossed it high.

Argentum immediately charged after the morsel, his short legs kicking up a miniature cloud of dust as he pursued the prize. Willam watched with pride as his young Tyrannosaurus leapt and snatched the meat straight from the air. Argentum landed with an elated snarl, blood dripping from his silver jaws. The hatchling tossed his head back, and the meat disappeared. He gurgled in delight and trotted back to Willam, panting from the exercise.

"Quite the little hunter now, aren't you?" Willam cooed.

Argentum nuzzled his arm with a happy growl. A faint smile tugged at Willam's lips as he handed the infant another chunk of meat. The young Tyrannosaurus snatched it up with a delighted chirp and curled up against a boulder to enjoy his meal. Willam joined him against the great rock a moment later. He stroked Argentum's back with calloused fingers, running his burnt hand along the hatchling's short spiky ridge. The little Tyrannosaurus purred as he gnawed on the meat.

Willam smiled as he watched the infant. Argentum had grown at an astonishing rate. It had barely been a fortnight since the young Tyrannosaurus hatched, yet he now stood at Willam's waist where before it had been his thigh. Argentum's jaw had grown as broad as an anvil, his teeth sharp as daggers, and his tail thick as a small tree. The spiky ridge along his back had become more pronounced, and taken on a deep turquoise hue. Elsewhere, blue clashed against grey for dominance. Willam traced his fingers over whorls of sapphire, starbursts of cerulean, and splashes of cobalt. Argentum shifted under the touch, his little chest rising and falling with a slow, rhythmic grace. It took Willam a moment to realize the little Tyrannosaurus was fast asleep.

"Finally tired, huh?" he chuckled.

Argentum growled softly, as if he could sense the remark. Willam stroked his scaly grey head and marvelled at how large he had grown. It seemed like only yesterday that the young Tyrannosaurus had come into the world, but it had really been twelve. Twelve days and twelve nights, yet they had all blurred into one in his mind. Willam's routine always stayed the same; he would wake up at the crack of dawn, care for Argentum, break his fast with the rest of their group, complete his morning chores, return to the lookout hill or camp for their midday meal, finish whatever tasks remained, sup with his friends, then retire for the night and repeat the next day. Willam would spend his spare time playing with Argentum, reading the dossier, or watching the various northern beasts from afar. Occasionally he would draw a night shift, and stay awake to watch for enemies in the darkness with Argentum and the moon as his only companions.

Willam smiled as he stroked the infant's back. Argentum would follow him around while he laboured at his chores, and curl up by his side at night. The little Tyrannosaurus was Willam's grey shadow; never far from reach, and never out of sight. Whether it was relaying messages, transporting goods, or simply keeping the fire alive, Argentum always found a place by his side. He was underfoot so often that Willam had to watch every step, in case he should blunder into the infant and leave them both sprawling on the ground.

Yet for all Argentum's misgivings, caring for him wasn't nearly as hard as Willam had imagined it would be. The young Tyrannosaurus was a little destructive, it was true, but that could only be expected from an infant, and an apex predator at that. Argentum could be wild and unruly when he wanted to, but most of the time he remained calm and peaceful. Occasionally the infant developed an urge to play, but oft as not, he was content following Willam around and observing everything he did. Even when the Tyrannosaurus grew tired of that, a slab of meat and a nice rock to bask in the sun were easy remedies for unruly behaviour. However, Willam found it increasingly difficult to feed his pet as the days flew by.

Argentum was able to eat his own weight every day, or near enough to make no matter. At first, it had only taken a Salmon or two to sate the hatchling. That small amount had swelled rapidly, until entire kills were being dedicated to the young Tyrannosaurus. Willam found it frightening to watch Argentum devour mountains of meat his own size or even larger. He gave an involuntary shudder, recalling the huge pile that the infant had gone through earlier.

Like as not, the Tyrannosaurus would be hungry again upon awakening. Willam sighed and scanned the camp for something to feed his pet. There wasn't a single morsel to be found. He could only hope that Otto or Winter had made a kill and were bringing the corpse back home. But even if they did, it would only be enough to sustain Argentum for a day. . . at _best._

 _We'll need a lot more food if we're to raise him properly_ , Willam reflected. The more Argentum ate, the larger he grew, and the larger he grew, the more he ate. It was an increasingly difficult task to keep the infant happy. Willam could see how much strain Argentum inflicted upon his friends, who had to acquire an ever-increasing amount of meat every day. Fortunately, their group had recovered enough to hunt some of the smaller northern beasts, otherwise, they would have already fished the river dry.

"Do my eyes deceive me, or have you already gone through another pile of meat, Willam?" Otto Weiss strolled into the camp with his spear in hand, a limp Purlovia slung over his shoulder, and Winter following hard on his heels. A pair of huge Sabertoothed Salmon dangled from the tip of his weapon, fresh from the stream by their look.

Argentum's eyes flared open. The little Tyrannosaurus had been jolted awake by the sudden commotion. He rose with an unsteady lurch and scanned the camp curiously before noticing the new arrivals. Winter padded over to the infant with a huge chunk of meat in his jaws. The Direwolf dropped the prize and gave it a gentle nudge toward Argentum, who scooped it up with a delighted chirp. The meat disappeared in half a dozen ferocious crunches.

Willam managed a sheepish grin as he turned to face his friend. "Argentum's developed quite the appetite. He needs more meat every day, but eventually, we'll. . ."

 _What? Get better at hunting?_ None of them had recovered from the attack, at least not completely. But even when their wounds were healed the change would be miniscule, only a slight improvement over before. At full strength, back when Hawk and Sarah were still with them, only a few kills had been made every day. And meat had been _much_ easier to get back then, when there were still Dodo birds and other easy prey to hunt. _No_ , Willam thought. _Recovering won't be our salvation. We might be able to take down a few extra beasts now and then, but it won't be enough. Especially not with Argentum to feed._

 _Find more prey?_ But even if they somehow did, it wouldn't make killing them any easier. Willam had been along on a few hunts, and seen firsthand how formidable northern creatures could be. A handful of them, such as Megaloceros, were simply too _fast_. Even Winter, who had been an exceptional hunter in his youth, had grown unaccustomed to the sheer speed of his former prey. And while some beasts were too swift, others were the polar opposite; hulking monsters that even a Dodo wouldn't have trouble outrunning. Woolly Rhinoceros, Mammoth, Chalicotherium, and many others were far too strong for their group to bring down. Worse still, they were almost exclusively found in herds large enough to give even the most ferocious predator second thoughts.

Only a select few northern beasts could be hunted and killed with success. Even then, their hunts were often long and tense, and could stretch for hours on-end without so much as a glimpse of viable prey. Otters and Kairuku were common targets. With lots of patience, the small creatures could be killed on land. . . but were _impossible_ to catch in the water. However, their group did find some degree of success with other aquatic creatures. Their most readily available source of food came from Sabertooth Salmon. The large fish had razor-sharp teeth and could bite with surprising force, but they were relatively easy to catch, especially when compared to other northern beasts.

Yet the easier prey could be caught, the more ferocious competition became. Effortless meals were not readily passed up when you lived in the harsh and unforgiving north. Many other predators relied upon the river for a living, and the shores were never empty. Direbears could often be glimpsed splashing in the shallows for fish, and their group made sure to steer clear whenever they saw one of the massive beasts. Other times, they saw Sabertooth Tigers pawing at the water, or huge Daeodon shuffling along the riverbanks.

The woods, hills, and plains were no better. Distant howls rang out day and night as Direwolves stalked their prey, while Argentavis circled far overhead, waiting to feast on the leftover corpses. The woods were infested with huge packs of Hyaenodon that hunted everything and anything, killing non-discriminatorily. _Finding more prey won't help either_ , Willam realized.

 _Find more people?_ Willam shifted uneasily. As of yet, the only signs of human life they had encountered were rotting corpses and broken shelters. A few of the remains were nothing more than dust and bones, but many more were fresh, perhaps only a few weeks old. Willam shuddered to imagine the grisly fates of the fallen survivors. There were plenty of signs near the bodies that gave some insight toward what happened, but he decided it was better to avoid thinking about that. But finding other humans was definitely still plausible. After all, he had been surprised after meeting Otto and Joseph, especially after living on his own for the first few days. Perhaps more developments had yet to present themselves, but Willam was ready for the worst possible outcome.

 _No_ , Willam realized. _There's nothing we can do. Without a miracle, we'll eventually succumb to the north. The only thing left to do is hope._

Willam let the sentence trail off when he couldn't find a way to finish it. Instead, he turned to watch Winter and Argentum, who were circling each other playfully. The Direwolf feigned a deliberately slow lunge, and rolled away when his playmate moved to intercept. Argentum took the initiative and charged, only for Winter to twist away again. The Tyrannosaurus snarled in frustration, heaving as he eyed his opponent, who growled in response. With a sudden burst of speed, Argentum leapt, and slammed into the larger beast with a solid _thump_. They rolled together amidst the dirt and pebbles, kicking up a huge cloud of dust. Willam noticed that Winter allowed the infant to claw his coat, but twisted away from Argentum's jaws.

There was good sense behind the Direwolf's behaviour, especially since Argentum was his opponent. Willam knew the young Tyrannosaurus already had jaws like iron, stronger than his own, and possibly even Winter's. One crunch from Argentum's heavy maw would be enough to cripple most of the smaller creatures on the island, humans included. Willam had already taken the liberty to correct Argentum's nasty habit of accidentally biting his companions whenever they tried to feed him. Luckily the young Tyrannosaurus had taken the lesson to heart, and only accepted meat through gentle nips or tugs.

Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about Argentum's violent tendencies, which surfaced whenever the infant was hungry, frustrated, or just plain angry. The young Tyrannosaurus was a force to be reckoned with while enraged. Friend or foe, predator or prey, all lost meaning to Argentum, and he would attack indiscriminately. Scabs and bruises were common sights for anyone that got in his way. Willam supposed they were fortunate that his pet was still relatively small. Had Argentum been much larger, dismembered limbs and giant punctures would be more apt consequences. He supposed they would just have to figure something out later down the line, but for now, Argentum was relatively harmless. _At least for now_ , Willam thought reproachfully. _But how long will that be?_

The miniature tantrums never lasted more than a few minutes, much to everyone's relief. Argentum would eventually cool down in his own time, but it was best to give the young Tyrannosaurus some space until then. Afterward, when he was finally calm again, Argentum would pout for forgiveness, and rub apologetically against whoever he had attacked. It seemed to Willam that the infant barely had control over himself during the violent outbursts. He would behave in an almost trance-like state, attacking with no rationality whatsoever. Willam hoped that Argentum's lack of self-control was only a byproduct of his young age, and that he would eventually grow out of his violent habits.

Until then, they would just have to cope. Willam had already stressed how important it was to keep Argentum calm and happy. Fortunately, his friends were quick learners, and they took extra care to avoid enraging the infant. Usually, it was quite the contrary. Otto and Joseph were constantly endeavouring to please Argentum by playing with him whenever he was lonely, or offering him morsels from their own plates. But despite their best efforts, the young Tyrannosaurus preferred the company of Willam, and surprisingly, Winter.

The Direwolf was Argentum's closest companion, aside from Willam himself, of course. The bond he had formed with the infant was far too strong to be usurped by anyone else. He and Argentum were practically inseparable; they always had been, ever since Willam had unknowingly imprinted on the infant upon hatching. He had been the first person for Argentum to see, and the young Tyrannosaurus had never left his side since. But regardless of Willam's special bond with the infant, Winter still found a special place by Argentum's side. The Direwolf was like an older brother to the young Tyrannosaurus. And while he had been wary of the infant at first, Winter had grown to love Argentum as much as the siblings he had lost.

Willam had been anxious to see how the two beasts would get along at first. He recalled how Winter had snarled and backed away when the Tyrannosaurus hatched, and the ferocious look that followed. Luckily his concerns were for naught, and Winter proved to be the perfect brother. He would often bring Argentum food, sleep by his side at night, and play with him whenever he wanted. The Direwolf would roll, leap, and pounce as if he were still a pup. Winter's behaviour was completely out of character, especially when compared to his normally silent demeanour. _The childhood he lost_ , Willam reflected. The white Direwolf had been driven from his home when he was still half grown. His entire family had been murdered by a rival Direwolf who usurped his father's position as alpha.

Spending months alone in the wilderness had transformed Winter. The Direwolf was wise beyond his years; an adult in everything but age. He even _looked_ the part. Willam was surprised to find that Winter shared a height with him. When they first met, the Direwolf had only come up to his shoulder. Even back then he had looked intimidating; all lean and fierce, covered in stark white fur with eyes of molten gold. It was hard to imagine that Winter had been a newborn pup less than a year ago.

Yet for all his strength, size, and appearance, Winter still remained a pup at heart. His serious visage melted away whenever he play-fought with Argentum. The two would frolick around for hours on end, snapping and snarling with pure delight. Winter always feigned defeat whenever they roughhoused, even though he could easily win if he wanted to. The Direwolf lost intentionally, to build the infant's confidence, Willam suspected. Yet even then, Argentum was rapidly shaping into a formidable fighter. He was constantly growing larger and stronger, and learning from his past mistakes. _At this rate, he'll beat Winter for real in no time at all._

Argentum was already starting to become a legitimate challenge for the Direwolf. Recently, their mock battles had begun to stretch for longer and longer, and Winter's collection of scars swelled with every one. Fortunately, his old wounds were healing as well. _In time to make room for more_ , Willam thought. Though by now, the Direwolf was almost as good as new. It had been a month since the Megalosaurus attack, or near enough to make no matter. Winter was slowly growing stronger, and his limp became less pronounced with every passing day.

Willam was grateful for the Direwolf's recovery; it couldn't have happened at a better time. Argentum's hungry nature had left their group hard-pressed for meat, a resource that was already scarce to begin with. Luckily, they had Winter. The great white Direwolf was invaluable to their group. Without him, they would have already starved or died trying to bring something down. Winter was arguably a better hunter than everyone else combined, and he never failed to disappoint. With him, they had a chance to recover and grow stronger. . . but not at their current rate. Argentum was eating faster than the Direwolf could provide. Willam could only hope that they would discover a solution to the dilemma, and soon.

He was shifted from his thoughts by a ferocious snarl, followed by a heavy grunt. Winter rolled away from the struggle sporting a thin coat of dust. Argentum snapped at where the Direwolf had been a moment before, growled in surprise, and turned in a wary circle when his jaws closed around thin air. With a start, the young Tyrannosaurus realized Winter had slipped away. He roared and charged at the great white Direwolf, only for the larger beast to twist away with ease. Argentum recoiled, corrected himself, and continued the pursuit, but Winter evaded him at every turn.

The young Tyrannosaurus flopped onto the ground after nearly a minute of the fruitless chase. He snarled in frustration, looking ready to give up. Winter noticed his companion's frustration and approached Argentum slowly. He turned to expose a flank, and sidled closer to prompt a response from the infant. Argentum lifted his head, saw Winter, and snarled in delight. The young Tyrannosaurus sprang from the ground with an elated roar, and charged toward the Direwolf at full speed. Winter yelped in mock alarm, but let the infant crash into him all the same. Argentum squealed in delight, his tiny arms wiggling as they scraped the Direwolf's coarse white coat. Winter allowed his opponent to scratch and slash for a moment before rolling over in mock defeat. His underside was thrust outward, and he lay completely still.

Argentum roared in triumph and leapt onto the Direwolf's exposed stomach. He paced around in a circle, his tiny claws digging into Winter's soft underbelly. And while the motion evoked more discomfort than pain, the Direwolf still trembled and yelped at his companion, who growled right back and resumed his trek. Argentum was still savouring his victory lap when Winter abruptly lifted his head, barked, and rolled over, causing the infant to lose his footing and slam into the ground with a heavy _thump_. Argentum shook the dust from his scales with a growl of displeasure as he rose. His beady eyes were locked on Winter, who sprang up seemingly unscathed from the scuffle. The Tyrannosaurus roared and charged at his companion, only for the Direwolf to dart away with a playful snarl.

Argentum gave pursuit, his tiny legs kicking up a fine spray of dirt and pebbles as he bounded after the larger beast. Winter loped around the camp joyfully, his tongue dangling in the air like a twisting pink serpent. The Direwolf made a graceful sight as he dashed between rocks and boulders, his long white legs stroking the ground with a hypnotic rhythm. Argentum seemed clumsy by comparison; stumbling after Winter on unsteady legs that kept getting tangled on the uneven terrain. He was never far behind, but always out of reach. The Direwolf would slow down to let his young companion catch up, but speed up again whenever Argentum got too close. Both beasts were panting from the exertion, but their eyes flashed with joy and delight as they raced around the camp.

Otto Weiss grinned as the two bolted around him, and raised an arm to shield his eyes from the cloud of dust that followed. He watched their playful antics for a moment before jamming his spear into the dirt and shrugging the Purlovia corpse off his shoulder. Willam had never gotten a close look at one of the ferocious beasts before, and examined it curiously. The Purlovia's pelt was a tawny golden colour streaked with silver hairs that hinted at an elderly age, but Willam was more interested in its size. Normal Purlovia were about as large as Sabertooth Tigers, but the one before him was much smaller. Standing at full height, the beast was barely taller than Argentum.

"A dwarf," Otto inclined his head at the corpse when he noticed Willam's curious expression.

The old man nodded, and returned his gaze to the carcass. From a distance, the Purlovia could have passed for an adolescent, though it's greying coat spoke otherwise. There was a bright teal feather sprouting from a long wooden shaft that punctured between two ribs. Willam looked for the flint arrowhead, but it was nowhere to be seen; the projectile was stuck too far in. "Any trouble with this one?"

Otto grasped the wooden shaft and eased his arrow out. Blood gushed from the puncture in rapid spurts, dark and heavy. Eventually, the flow dwindled to a trickle, then stopped altogether. The dirt drank it up eagerly, turning a vivid crimson in the process. "The beast would've gotten the jump on me if Winter hadn't sniffed it out first," Otto replied. "After that, it was only a matter of some target practice. Needless to say, I've gotten better," he grinned, held the bloody arrow up for inspection, and tossed it onto a nearby snowbank to soak the gore away.

Otto unsheathed his new dagger and plunged it into the Purlovia. The blade was a near replica of the one he had lost during the Megalosaurus attack. Around the length of his forearm and curved like a scythe, Otto's new weapon was just as deadly as his last. But where the old had been carved from Parasaur bone, the new was made from a Sabertooth Tiger's fang. Willam recalled the beast whose unwilling contribution now aided their group.

The Sabertooth had recklessly stalked into their camp one afternoon, attracted by the scent of a fresh salmon. Without a moment's notice, the catch had been devoured and they were left with a ravenous beast hungry for more. Fortunately, Joseph had been there, and his quick thinking along with his marksmanship was enough to wound the Sabertooth before it could even snarl in surprise.

Winter had taken over from there, and a fierce battle ensued that left the Direwolf victorious and the Sabertooth dead. After the initial shock wore off, their group was delighted to discover a perfectly good pelt and fresh carcass. The meat only sustained them for a few days, but the other trophies were an essential contribution to their survival. They divided the spoils among themselves; Willam received the pelt, which he had fashioned into a great cloak, while Otto and Joseph each claimed a tooth from the Sabertooth's maw. The two largest fangs were already in the perfect shape for stabbing and slashing. It had only taken a few hours to transform them into deadly weapons.

First, they had been boiled to kill any diseases the Sabertooth might have been carrying, and honed until sharp enough to shave with. Next, sturdy wooden handles had been carved from a nearby oak, and tied to the blade with thin strips of hide. Everything was reinforced by a length of supple leather, which wrapped around the blade and snaked down to the hilt. The finished result made Willam envious for a dagger of his own, but he knew the blade would be useless in his frail hands.

Instead, his Sabertooth cloak made for a much more appropriate gift; on cold nights, the shaggy furs kept him as warm as any fire. Better yet, the cloak was large enough to encompass his companions as well, especially Argentum who needed the extra warmth. Until they acquired better supplies, Willam was more than happy to share with his friends. _Soon,_ he thought. _We weren't prepared at first. But we're growing stronger with every day. It's only a matter of time before the north becomes our new home._

Otto eased his dagger under the Purlovia's coat and worked his blade around its scrawny frame. Fur was just as valuable as meat in the north, if not more. Food would sustain you for a few days at best, whereas clothes could last a year, or two, or even ten. Willam tugged his cloak about himself as a sharp gust of wind howled past the camp. Hunger was a ferocious enemy, wild and savage, whereas cold was cruel and silent, but just as deadly. Willam had experienced both, and understood the importance of skinning their kills.

Otto parted the Purlovia's pelt from its flesh with one final slash. He held the hide up for inspection, turned it over, then nodded in approval and set it down. He sheathed his bone dagger and turned to Willam.

"The pelt's ready to be washed," Otto nodded at the lake by the base of their hill. He glanced at Argentum, who was preoccupied in tackling Winter. "Might want to take that one with you. Argentum looks like he could use the adventure."

Willam nodded and called for the young Tyrannosaurus. . . who completely ignored him. "Argentum!" he tried again. This time, the infant realized he was being summoned. Argentum snapped at his playmate one last time before reluctantly bounding over to Willam's side. Winter pouted as his companion left, but remained rooted in place.

"You can always come with us if you want," Willam invited. The Direwolf didn't respond. Instead, his eyes were locked on something in the distance. Willam turned to follow Winter's gaze, but couldn't distinguish anything out of place.

The Direwolf barked and bounded back to his master's side while keeping a healthy distance from the hill's edge. Willam glanced at Otto, who only shrugged and resumed cutting the Purlovia into manageable chunks. _It's probably nothing more than some wild beast's scent. Winter doesn't want to leave Otto unguarded._ Willam gave Argentum a reassuring pat before setting down the hillside with his young companion in tow and the Purlovia pelt slung across a shoulder.

* * *

The lake shimmered under the glaring sun as Willam picked his way down to the shore. Argentum gave an excited snarl of delight as he caught sight of the lapping water, and charged ahead to inspect the lake. A thin film of ice had already formed along its edge. The young Tyrannosaurus snapped at the ice curiously, and gingerly planted a foot on its slick surface. Naturally, he slipped and nearly went down. Argentum managed to catch himself in time, and roared at his inanimate enemy. Willam smiled as the infant started jumping. He came crashing down, again and again, driving all his weight into the vicious attack. The ice cracked on his fourth leap.

Argentum squealed in alarm as more cracks spiderwebbed across the ice. He froze in terror and locked eyes with Willam, pleading for help. The old man started toward his young companion, but he was already too late. The surface shattered.

Argentum went down thrashing and screeching. . . only to realize the water came up to his thighs. The infant snarled and shook his head indignantly. Willam grinned as Argentum trudged out of the shallows, dripping with icy water. He gave his enemy another furious roar before retreating farther down the shore, well away from the lake. Argentum shook the droplets off his frame and settled onto the dirt with an angry huff. He proceeded to watch Willam from a distance, occasionally casting the lake a dark glare.

The old man grinned at his companion before setting to his task. First, he allowed the Purlovia pelt to soak in the water. When it was properly drenched, he scrubbed the blood and strings of flesh from the pelt. The lake made his arms numb, but the icy water was a pleasant reprieve for his burnt limb. Willam's hand still stung, albeit mildly, but it wasn't nearly as strong as before. He could finally go to sleep without feeling as if his hand was still aflame. His skin had grown back in some places, pink and shiny. Other parts were still flaky red or scabbed over. His entire arm was a hideous, ragged patchwork. _The union of flesh and flame._

Willam retrieved the soaked hide from the water and beat it dry against a rock. The pelt _cracked_ and _snapped_ like a whip as frozen droplets sprang free. When it was relatively dry, Willam slung the fur over his shoulder and made his way up the shore. Argentum sprang up with a happy snarl at the sight of his returning master. The infant bowled into Willam with an ecstatic roar, tipping the old man off balance in his haste. It was all Willam could do to catch himself in time. _The little beast is getting heavier. He's almost caught up with me in weight._

"Miss me?" He gave the young Tyrannosaurus a friendly pat, and Argentum seemed to swell with pride from the affection.

Willam chuckled and started back up the slope with his young companion eagerly bounding ahead. The camp looked especially formidable from the elevated angle, but Willam knew exactly how vulnerable it actually was. A row of tall wooden stakes was erected in a ring around the entire hill, with special emphasis on the side that bordered the forest. They had dug a shallow ditch outside the protective ring, with jagged rocks lining the bottom. As Willam drew closer, he could pick out the second wooden palisade that intersected the first. The stakes were taller and angled upward to dissuade beasts from leaping into the camp.

A thin plume of smoke rose from a second, taller hill behind their camp. _Joseph on watch_ , Willam knew. The large man devoted himself to his duty and insisted on keeping watch through most of the day and some of the night. The rest of the watch was split between Otto and Willam himself, but there was always a person on duty, regardless of the time. They would _never_ be taken by surprise again.

Willam edged his way between two stakes and extracted a third to access the camp. He replaced the wooden spikes and made his way toward the fire, closely followed by Argentum. The young Tyrannosaurus gave a snarl of delight as he spotted Winter, and rushed to tackle his playmate. The Direwolf gave a half-hearted growl in return, but his attention was focused elsewhere. Winter stared off into the distance, seemingly unaware of Argentum, who growled in frustration at the lack of reaction. Willam frowned. He was trying to discern the Direwolf's strange behaviour when Otto hailed his return.

"Everything went well, I hope?" Otto was seated on a rock by the stove. He had hauled a heavy flat stovetop over the rocks, and let the fire heat the stone until it was sizzling.

"Argentum made a new enemy," Willam grinned. "He won't be going anywhere near the lake for a while now."

Otto glanced up in alarm at the mention of a new foe and followed Willam's gaze toward the young Tyrannosaurus. His mask of alarm quickly faded into a grin as he noticed the half-frozen droplets of water running down Argentum's back. "That'll teach him to stay off the ice."

"We can only hope," Willam sighed. He glanced toward the Purlovia remains, which Otto had butchered in his absence. The meat was sliced into thin chunks and piled in the corner as fodder for Winter and Argentum. "The hide's been washed and scoured clean," Willam announced, holding the pelt up for display.

Otto nodded in approval. "Just set it on the rack with all the others."

The drying rack held pelts of all shapes, sizes, and colours, all in various states of being cured. Willam saw the small brown coat of a young Megaloceros, a handful of Otter skins that were smaller still, and the spotted hide of a Hyaenodon. Willam set the Purlovia pelt onto one of the higher racks and retreated a handful of steps to admire the collection.

"A few of these are ready," he declared.

Otto spared the rack a brief glance before turning back to the stovetop. "I'll work on them sometime later, but I think we're good on clothing for now.

The icy wind that drove through Willam's mangled outfit argued otherwise, but he left that part unsaid. Everything else was an improvement over before; his shredded hide clothing had been patched back together with warm furs that helped shield him from the ever-present cold. The shaggy pelts were sewn wherever they were needed; primarily across his shoulders, along his sides, and his arms. A makeshift hood had been stitched together as well, but Willam only wore it in especially cold weather. He found that the furs did more harm than good; they muffled his hearing until it was difficult to tell if anything was approaching, and they limited his vision to only what was directly ahead of him. Willam preferred to go hoodless oft as not, even though the wind stung his ears.

His mismatched clothing looked ragged and unkempt, but it served well and that was what mattered. Otto and Joseph sported similar attires, but none of their outfits were exactly the same. They all had their clothes made from different pelts due to the lack of viable furs. But despite the spontaneous appearance that his clothing boasted, Willam was grateful for the warmth it provided. The frigid northern climate had barely been tolerable at first, and until recently, it had taken a constant succession of fires to prevent him from freezing to death.

The location of their camp did very little to stave off the cold, but it still offered a minuscule degree of protection. Their camp hugged a small round hill, which was enough to keep most of the wind off their backs. Tall boulders lined the area, making it much more comfortable; the massive rocks trapped the warmth in and kept the cold out. Luckily, they had a safe and secure place to rest. Beneath a small overhang flanked by a pair of boulders, they stored their cots of dried grass. The arrangement kept the wind away on every side but the entrance. Even then, the shelter was almost always heated when Willam and his friends shared their warmth at night.

As an additional measure against the cold, their main fire was kept alive day and night. They had ringed the flames with a wall of stone, which came up to Willam's thigh in height. There was a small gap between some of the stones to allow fresh logs to be fed into the flames. It was a loose reconstruction of the fire pit from their previous camp, but this time they had built up instead of excavating down. Both pits did their purpose; keeping the wind out, and the fire alive.

Whenever they wanted a meal fried rather than charred, a flat rock was hoisted over the stone ring, allowing the flames to lick its roof and heat the stovetop. By now, its underside was black as pitch from countless hours of usage. A few of the stones in the ring had darkened as well, as had the very ground closest to the pit.

The soot-stained dirt served as a good indication to keep all their flammable materials away from the fire. All their tools and lumber were stored in the corners of their camp, well away from the firepit. Willam spied all sorts of items piled in one alcove. There was a trio of long wooden spears leaning against a boulder, a stone hatchet lodged in the ground, sharpened bones, strips of hide, a handful of flint arrowheads and sturdy wooden shafts to accompany them. Even farther away was a pile of lumber gathered from the nearby forest and ready for whatever was required of it.

Willam was distracted from his observations by the heavenly aroma of cooked salmon. Otto had already prepared both fish by skinning them free of scales and laying them across the stovetop. A thin puddle of grease had formed, where the two salmon sat frying.

Willam's stomach growled in anticipation of his dinner. Only the humans would sup on the fish; the beasts would be content with the Purlovia remains. They actually seemed to prefer meat from terrestrial creatures as opposed to aquatic ones. Willam had seen them turn away fish for other types of meat on multiple occasions. They could still eat the seafood if they had to, but much rather preferred alternatives.

Otto expertly sliced the two salmon into three equal portions; one for each of the three humans. He scooped the fish onto three flat stones and handed one to Willam. He kept the other two plates in hand.

"Winter, to me," Otto called. The white Direwolf immediately bounded to his side.

Willam was unsure of his friend's intentions, but he beckoned Argentum to his side anyway. The young Tyrannosaurus bounded over eagerly and immediately started sniffing his salmon. "No," Willam scolded. "You have your own food right there. If you want, go bring some meat with you."

The infant cocked his head at Willam but seemed to understand the gist of his suggestion. Argentum charged toward the Purlovia meat and scooped a few chunks into his mouth. He was back at Willam's side an instant later.

"We're all ready then," Otto declared after Winter retrieved a similar bounty from the diminishing pile of meat in the corner. Otto hefted his two stone plates, shouldered past the barrier, and started down the hill toward its neighbour.

"To the lookout hill?" Willam inquired on their way down.

"It gets a bit lonely up there. I'd imagine Joseph would welcome some company."

Willam knew the large man was still distraught over the attack on their previous camp, though he hid it well. He seemed to have recovered from most of the horror, although it was clear that he would never forget what happened. Of late, Joseph had opened up again. Where before he had answered questions with grunts, nods, or sullen silence, at least now he made an effort to reply.

There was still something that bothered Joseph. Willam could see it in the large man's eyes despite his efforts to hide it, and it wasn't the loss of Hawk either. His friend had worn that look far too often, but he seemed to have finally recovered from the loss. _No, this is something entirely different_ , Willam reflected on his way up _._

Joseph would dismiss everything casually whenever Willam probed at the issue. "Just my imagination is all," he would declare every time. "Nothing of concern. Don't worry about it."

But Willam _did_ worry. He said as much to Joseph, who continued to evade the issue. But finally, after much insistent pestering, the large man finally relented one afternoon.

"It's Argentum, that beast of yours." Joseph lowered his voice when the Tyrannosaurus turned toward him with a curious growl, intrigued by the mention of his name.

"My Tyrannosaurus? Sure, he might be troublesome occaisiona-"

"That's not what I'm afraid of," Joseph cut in. "I don't think Argentum is what he seems."

"Are you certain? If he's not a Tyrannosaurus, then . . . what is he?"

"I'm still not completely sure, but he definitely isn't a Tyrannosaurus, like you believe." Joseph then proceeded to share his suspicions, which included everything he had noticed about Argentum over the past few weeks.

"There's a ridge along his back, right there, you see?" Willam nodded. Joseph went on. "It shouldn't be there. I looked at the _Dossier_ again, and the illustration doesn't match. The Tyrannosaurus I saw on the beach from my first day didn't have one either." He gave that a moment to sink in, and produced the _Dossier_ as proof. Joseph flipped through the book and stopped at a page that held the Tyrannosaurus.

Willam quickly realized his friend was right. Joseph pressed on insistently. "The jaw is too long as well, the arms are too large, there are spikes on Argentum's head where there shouldn't be any, and the tail should be much shorter." Each observation was accompanied by a persistent tap on the Tyrannosaurus illustration. Willam didn't need his friend to narrate anymore. Now that it had been brought to his attention, he could distinguish the aforementioned differences very clearly.

Later that night during his watch atop the Lookout hill, Willam flipped through the _Dossier_ in search of what Argentum actually was. The infant was curled up by his feet, snoring peacefully. Willam held the book before his face and compared every likely contender to his sleeping companion. He immediately crossed out _Dilophosaurus_ , _Utahraptor_ , _Troodon_ , and all the other small predators. _Allosaurus_ , _Baryonyx_ , _Megalosaurus_ , and _Carnotaurus_ didn't match either. The Tyrannosaurus was the closest thing that remained. . . but there was still another. Willam wasn't sure whether it should be counted, or even trusted, but there was an unfinished page that contained a crude sketch of a huge bipedal predator.

Only the jaws were easily discernable, but they still weren't an exact match for Argentum. Granted, the sketch did match well enough. . . much better than the Tyrannosaurus. But aside from the jaws, all the other parts were even harder to recognize. The legs were so incomplete that they looked like sticks. The arms as well, but they were even worse. Claws were simply jagged lines, and there was no shading to speak of. Two black dots counted as eyes, and the tail was just one rough triangle. Some lines were so thin they bordered on the edge of being nonexistent, while others were thick, dark, and heavily smudged. Willam had to squint to make out an image, and even then it was still far too vague to be recognizable. The sketch looked like a child's scribbles.

It had obviously been assembled in some haste. Whoever created the _Dossier_ hadn't stuck around long enough to get a proper drawing. Willam could only imagine all the countless ways it had gone wrong. However, the author had managed to get a name, or at least a fragment of one. Whether it was real or completely made up was anyone's guess. Willam read it over and over, trying to decipher the unfinished ending. " _Gigan . ."_ the first portion was spelled. The rest was scrawled out as if the creator hadn't been certain on a name.

 _What had the author wanted to call it? Gigantic-something? Gigantic-lizard? Gigantic-monster?_ Willam supposed he would never find out. Apart from the name, there was no other text on the page. No diet, no temperament, no notes or cautions. Just blank, empty paper. He shuddered and turned the page, but found nothing else.

The sketch did bear a certain. . . resemblance to Argentum, but it definitely wasn't a perfect match either. However, the unfinished illustration lacked many details, which might have matched with the infant had the sketch been finished. Willam reflected that Argentum still wasn't fully grown or anywhere close to maturity. Perhaps he would look entirely different when he was older.

Until then, Willam would have to decipher the mystery using only the current evidence he had gathered. With the missing details taken into account, the sketch _did_ match with Argentum. . . at least better than the Tyrannosaurus illustration. Willam was still conflicted.

The Tyrannosaurus actually had a legitimate name and species, whereas the " _Gigan"_ was a mysterious enigma. Willam was hesitant to imagine his new companion belonging to a completely undocumented mystery species. In the end, he went with his better judgement. Argentum resembled both specimens, but until Willam could be completely certain of the infant's connection to one or the other, it was safest to assume Argentum was a Tyrannosaurus.

Willam angrily dismissed the conflict from his head as the group approached their destination. It would have to wait another day.

The eastern side of the Lookout hill was cloaked with long shadows from the setting sun. It was large, but thankfully not very steep, although it didn't lack in awkwardly-placed rocks and crevices. Many reached out to trip Willam along the way, and he nearly lost his dinner half a dozen times. Otto didn't fare much better, though Winter and Argentum got up without any difficulties.

A small ring of wooden stakes was arrayed around the crest, but one was already extracted to allow entry. They served practically no use but for assurance. The stakes were too small to provide any real protection; most beasts could leap above them easily. Willam edged through the opening while silently praying that the pitiful defense would never have to be tested.

A miserably small fire withered in the centre of the clearing. It was shielded by an equally pathetic ring of stones, yet struggling to burn all the same. Six Compy feather arrows were jammed into the dirt like a miniature picket fence, while Joseph held the seventh in hand. A few large boulders protected their current position from most of the wind, but Willam was still shivering regardless.

Joseph had already brushed two rocks clean by the time they arrived at the crest. He had seen their coming, but they hadn't seen them. He grinned at his friends and gestured for them to take their seats. Otto handed Joseph a plate and sat down on the nearest stone. Winter curled up by his master's feet, but Argentum was more curious. He bounded up to Joseph and sniffed his hand inquisitively. The infant growled in satisfaction and retreated to Willam's side. Joseph chuckled and shook his head at Argentum's peculiar ritual.

They set to the meal with their hands, while Winter and Argentum feasted on the ragged chunks of meat they had brought from the camp. Joseph had nothing of particular importance to report from his watch, although he did mention seeing a few strange beasts in the distance.

"There were three or four," he shrugged between bites. "Far off on the horizon, but none gave me any trouble. Hunting most like, though I couldn't tell what they were. Hyaenodons, if I were to guess."

Otto nodded. "Keep your eyes peeled. We can't be too careful, especially when there are so many predators about."

Willam stared at the distant fields of snow, awash in the golden glow of the setting sun. He gave a moment of thoughtful silence before speaking up. "They were in a pack, you said?"

"Aye. Four, by my count," Joseph replied.

Willam pondered over the sighting for a moment. There weren't many northern species that hunted in packs, but the ones that existed were some of the deadliest foes they could possibly encounter. Most predators preferred to live on their own, such as Sabertooth Tigers and Direbears, but there were a few, like Direwolves, that thrived in groups. But if they _did_ happen to be dealing with wolves. . .

Willam speared a chunk of Salmon, chewed, and swallowed. Their group was in for a load of trouble if Joseph's sightings could be believed. Direwolves were notoriously well known for their defensive behaviour, especially when territory was concerned. He could only pray that they hadn't unknowingly invaded a wolf pack's territory. If they had, it would only lead to more pain and suffering on their behalf.

Winter lifted his head and growled, low and deep. His golden eyes gleamed with sullen ferocity, and his hackles were bristling. Only too late did Willam realize how quiet it had gotten. The world was silent but for the howling of the wind. The distant herds of Megaloceros and Wooly Rhinoceros had abandoned lake, leaving the shore eerily barren. The mountain slopes were empty as well, but for the rocks and boulders that stood their eternal vigil. The forest remained unmoving, except for the leaves and branches stirring in the wind. But apart from nature, everything was completely still.

Winter had retreated, turning his back to the firepit and crouching down low. His fangs gleamed in the moonlight. Argentum picked up on the older beast's behaviour and started circling Willam fretfully. The infant growled and tugged at his master's arm, pulling him away from the hillside. Willam cursed as dozens of sharp teeth pierced his skin, but followed the Tyrannosaurus regardless. Otto and Joseph shared a look before backing away from the edge and shifting so their backs were against the fire. Joseph unslung his bow and nocked an arrow to the string. Otto unsheathed his new Sabertooth dagger and raised it against the darkness. Willam snatched Joseph's discarded staff from the ground and shifted it into a two-handed grip, wielding it like a club.

The Direwolves were already upon them. A shadow that Willam mistook for a boulder shifted, and snarled at the group, eyes gleaming ferociously. The signal spread across the hillside like wildfire. Direwolves appeared everywhere; sliding out from behind boulders, emerging from shadows, and stalking out from the forest. They were all bounding up the hill slope, converging on a single location; the Lookout hill. Joseph cursed when he saw their numbers. There were easily a dozen, perhaps two, but the shadows played tricks on Willam's vision. In the light of the moon, boulders looked like wolves, and wolves looked like boulders.

Their group tensed as the pack approached from all sides, growling and snarling from the shadows. Willam saw eyes that gleamed with every colour; sapphire and emerald, jet and gold, amber and mahogany, even a flash of ruby from an albino. He was met by gleaming fangs and snarling Direwolves everywhere he turned. They were completely surrounded.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **I'm back! Happy Thanksgiving to those of you who are celebrating it now.**

 **Anyways, I'd like to apologize for the unintentional haitus. Literally two days after the last chapter came out, my school issued out textbooks and I was too preoccupied on reading ahead. After that, school started and I was immediately swamped with projects and essays. I only recently got a small break from the work, and took that oppurtunity to finish this chapter (or at least half). I intend to update the second half by the end of this month, but it could be much longer depending on school. After that, chapters might slow down to once a month, once every two months, or even less. Expect the worse.  
**

 **On a more cheerful note, I'm taking name suggestions for an OTTER. Gender and colouration are still undecided, so I'll leave that to the readers as well. Special thanks to everyone who left a suggestion last time! Don't worry if your name wasn't picked, there will be plenty more oppurtunities in the future!**

 **Girlbook, hungry baby indeed! As for your questions:**

 **1\. Not quite sure what you were trying to ask, but as I stated before, I have 4-5 story arcs planned.**

 **2\. Definitely, though the parent will never make an appearance.**

 **3\. There are definitely more tribes/humans out there.**

 **4\. I think the above name suggestion poll gives a slight indication to your question.**

 **5\. Nope. None of the traditional bossess.**

 **haydenunstopable, I was NOT, and AM not accepting tame suggestions. Feel free to suggest names though.**

 **ItsJustCrow, more about the dossier in the second half. There is an entry, but I made it incomplete, at least in my story. Anyways, thanks for the name suggestions! As you can see, I ended up taking one of yours.**

 **DevoutRelic, the pack will defnitely appear in the future. . . Get ready for your emotions to be twisted like never before.** **heh, heh. Fun writing ahead. And I completely agree: Gigas Rexes anyday. A bit too late now, but I hope everything went well with your tribe...**

 **Tall-Gothic-Guy, the baby might not have been one, but I promise you will get your Allosaurus wish one day. Much more comic relief to come. Don't worry on that regard.**

 **Jaigantic, I'm glad that you considered last chapter as great :)**

 **RedLightningD608, they'll manage to feed Argentum, just wait and see for what I have planned ;) Also, I like your idea of a mountain viking tribe. I'll try and incorporate it if my story permits.**

 **DragonGirl345, the vision definitely had an element of magic, like our friend Willam suspected. I believe you accidentally missed chapter 11, but yes - the egg did hatch**

 **bAstErd, please do not use this site to spread hatred.**

 **King Endercreeper, I have seen the Aberration trailer, and it was amazing! Spot on with the homework assumption.**

 **NumberZero41, I'm flattered that you think so highly of my story and skills as a writer! Anyways, I hope these next few chapters can provide clarification for the egg. If you're still confused afterward, feel free to PM me anytime!**

 **Why did this happen to me, I tried to make the egg as obvious as possible :)**

 **Thanks for taking the time to check out my first fanfiction, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I will try my best to upload as regularly as possible. Feel free to comment, ask question or criticize my story, review is always welcome. And i** **f you like what you saw, make sure to check out the other ARK: Survival Evolved fanfictions out there. Have a great rest of your day or night.**

 **-DaRumpyBurr**


	13. Otto VI

**Happy New Years!**

* * *

 **Otto VI**

* * *

For one precious moment, the entire world was completely still. His dagger's supple leather hilt was slick with sweat, unsteady in his grip. To his right, Joseph squinted into the darkness, his hands clenched around a sturdy wooden bow. Elsewhere, Willam shifted uneasily with a wooden club clutched high above his head, eyes sweeping from side to side. Winter snarled and bared his fangs, golden eyes gleaming with malice. Argentum growled hesitantly, suddenly uncertain in the presence of so many foes.

Otto Weiss had never felt so overwhelmed in his life.

The Direwolves advanced from every side, snarling and growling like a horde of angry demons. Otto counted at least a dozen before him, and more along his flanks. There were surely others approaching from behind as well. He cursed softly and backed away from the hillside, as far as the blazing fire behind him would permit. A dozen bloodthirsty eyes followed his movements.

"This is it," Joseph muttered under his breath, desperation tinging his tone. "There's too many. We're done for."

Otto's reply died in his mouth. He only managed a slight nod which his companion surely missed. He returned his attention to the incoming tide of teeth and claws. With a menacing snarl, a huge black Direwolf pushed his way to the front of the pack and eyed Otto's group ferociously. With a single howl, the night erupted into pure chaos.

Direwolves rushed in from every angle imaginable, snarling and snapping like ravenous monsters. Out of the corner of his eye, Otto watched two huge wolves back Willam against a boulder. A fleeting glance revealed that Joseph was hardly faring any better. The large man kicked one Direwolf away while stringing an arrow to his bow, which he released into the throng of bristling fur and snapping jaws. The wave parted and the arrow harmlessly lodged itself into the dirt with a soft _twang_. The Direwolves converged again like a seamless mob and rushed back up the hill, with twice the vigour from before.

Winter was holding three Direwolves at bay, attacking each in turn and retreating before the others could flank him. The huge white Direwolf was already bleeding from various bites and scratches on his regularly pristine coat. To Otto's left, Argentum was circling an albino wolf with gleaming red eyes, smaller than all the others. Based on the various trickles of blood running down the wolf's pelt, Argentum had experienced some small degree of success in defending himself. Otto was interrupted from his observations as a huge tan wolf bounded over Winter and slammed into his chest, knocking him into the icy ground.

Before he could even raise his knife to defend himself, the wolf was already moving in for the kill. Otto barely managed to throw his hands out in self-defence before two monstrous jaws snapped together with a spray of froth. He clamped the wolf's muzzle shut, struggling to hold the monster away. The pungent odour of the wolf's last meal made him gag.

Otto's knife was on the ground within arm's reach, yet on the other side of the island for all the good it contributed. He couldn't move without releasing his grip on the Direwolf. Unfortunately, holding the beast's jaws together left its claws free. They dug into his flesh over and over again, gouging canyons into his chest and waist. Otto felt his strength draining away with every passing second.

In those frenzied moments, he risked a brief glance at his surroundings. Joseph had already expended all seven of his arrows and now stood with his knife in hand, a parallel to Otto's own, which was still discarded on the ground. The huge man's back was against the fire, and he was holding wolves away by swiping his knife back and forth. Otto noticed movement out of the corner of his eye, no more than a silver blur in the darkness. The Direwolf took a running start and bounded over the fire in one swift motion, slamming into Joseph with a bloodthirsty snarl. Man and beast went down together, entangled in a struggle for life. The other wolves Joseph had been holding at bay now joined the frenzy with a chorus of snarls and grunts. The living mountain of fur crushed the two combatants under their combined weight.

Out of the corner of his eye, Otto watched Willam stumble backwards as Direwolves leapt at him from every angle. The old man had lost his weapon and now backpedalled with his arms spread out, shoving his assailants away. Willam's scrawny arms were torn and bleeding. His fur clothing was shredded to reveal an equally torn body, which ran red with blood, staining the ground into a murky crimson sludge.

Otto grimaced and turned his gaze toward Argentum. The young Tyrannosaurus was thrashing around like a fish out of water. The albino Direwolf, although not much larger than the infant, had pinned Argentum against a boulder. The two beasts were trading bites, though their jaws were equally matched. But even as Otto made the observation, he noticed more Direwolves approaching the ongoing struggle. Unlike the albino, these were full sized monsters that would tear Argentum apart within seconds. Otto grimaced but there was nothing he could do for the infant. It was a pity that Argentum had known the world for less than a fortnight. His brief existence was only a temptation of the bounty that life offered, a fragment of his full potential.

The thought was enough to jolt Otto back into reality. They were all going to die; Joseph, who had only recently started recovering from the previous attack; Willam, the gentle old soul who had never harmed a sentient being without reason; Argentum, who only hatched a few days ago; and Winter, who had been there since the very start. Winter, who was Otto's first and oldest friend. Winter. . . who was nowhere to be found.

With a start, Otto realized he hadn't seen his Direwolf since the start of the battle. He looked around frantically, but the only visible white pelt belonged to the albino. Otto's brief search was abruptly ended by his attacker, who had managed to escape from his grip. The Direwolf backed away, its jaw completely free. The beast snarled and rushed in again. Otto managed to roll aside, narrowly avoiding his attacker's frothing maw. The Direwolf shook its head and charged, but Otto managed to kick it away by lashing out with his feet. The ravenous beast recoiled away from the impact, its bloodthirsty eyes gleaming with malice.

Otto was scrambling to his feet when he noticed the other wolves. Two more of the beasts now growled at him, approaching from different angles. Otto's original assailant charged with a deafening snarl. The others quickly followed.

Otto Weiss managed to twist away from the first two Direwolves, but the third slammed into him with the unyielding power of a landslide. He stumbled head-first into the ground and banged his head on a rock. Otto's vision spun and he tasted the sharp metallic tang of blood in his mouth. Before he could recover, his attackers had already returned again.

The first Direwolf tore into his arm. The second clamped its jaws around his ankle and dragged him deeper into the fray. The third went for his neck.

Otto managed to slam the beast away with his free hand, but it rebounded right back an instant later. His vision was tinged with black spots as the Direwolf latched onto his shoulder, digging into his flesh. Otto's three attackers mauled him from every direction, tugging him back and forth like a ragged scrap of cloth. Otto felt his limbs stiffen as blood seeped from his body. Very distantly, he noticed his friends in similar conditions. Willam was sprawled on the ground. Joseph was still entombed beneath a mountain of Direwolves. Argentum was cornered, snarling against a horde of attackers.

The numbness spread to the rest his body. Otto could no longer feel the Direwolves clamped onto his limbs, nor the stinging abrasions that covered his bloody frame. The rest of the world was a dull roar, strangely melodious to his ears. _At least my death will be swift_ , Otto thought. _If I close my eyes, it will be as if I'm dreaming. . ._

Suddenly a howl pierced the air, more deafening than the _crack_ of thunder. It drowned everything else out; the snarling, grunting, barking, scuffling and cursing of friends and foe alike. The entire world was filled by the eerie cry. Dozens of heads swivelled simultaneously as the source of the noise presented itself.

Winter emerged from absolutely nowhere. The Direwolf seemed absolutely resplendent under the steady glow of the overhead moon. He stood tall and straight, his head inclined and his tail raised like a flag. The stance simply radiated authority.

Winter tossed his head back and howled again, imbuing the world with his modulating pitch. The Direwolf had attracted everyone's attention. All eyes were transfixed on his luminous form. He barked with such power and vigour that even Otto himself flinched away. The Direwolf pack hesitated, every beast frozen in place.

Winter barked again, louder than before; an explosion of overwhelming noise. The other Direwolves cowered and backed away slowly. Otto sighed in relief as their heavy jaws withdrew from his tender flesh.

He risked a glance at his battered allies. Joseph was covered in scratches and completely dazed, his eyes wide open. Blood soaked his torn clothing, but the damage was far less than what Otto had expected. Willam was sprawled on the ground with his face jammed into the dirt and a bloody hand clamped over his burnt arm, the old scars reopened by the fresh conflict.

Meanwhile, Argentum had recovered from his assault. The Tyrannosaurus glowered at his assailants, who were currently preoccupied backing away from Winter. The white Direwolf swept his glare across every member of the pack in turn, taking everyone in. His gaze lingered on a cluster of wolves who had not retreated from their positions. Winter growled, revealing his gleaming white canines. The cluster stood their ground. For an instant, the tension escalated to its previous peak.

Suddenly, a pure black Direwolf shouldered past the other wolves, his fiery green eyes gleaming with malice. Otto recognized him as the beast who had initiated the attack by howling at their hill. But moreover, there was something strangely. . . familiar about him. Otto couldn't shake his underlying sense of discomfort away. He shuddered and turned back toward Winter, watching for his Direwolf's reaction.

Rather than backing down or simply standing his ground, Winter advanced forward. His eyes were orbs of molten gold as he leapt from his rock onto the frosty dirt, scattering clumps of snow from beneath his paws. Upon the impact, the loose circle of wolves backed away again, forming a ramshackle ring. Without a moment's hesitation, Winter's black-furred rival advanced to meet his challenge. The two wolves padded forward until they were within lunging distance of one another. Winter snarled at his opponent with a bloodthirsty roar, primal and ferocious. Otto flinched from the explosive noise. Never before had he seen Winter in such an aggressive state.

The black Direwolf answered the taunt with a stout bark of his own. Not a moment later, he followed the vocal outburst with a few vicious snaps at Winter. None of the attacks made physical contact, but the effects were devastating all the same. The black Direwolf had declared his supremacy over the pack. As reigning alpha, the beast would answer any threats to his dominance with a show of physical force. If need be, the black alpha would defend his title with his life. If Winter engaged the beast, the conflict would almost certainly result in one of their deaths. But Otto knew his own Direwolf would never simply give up.

Winter surged forward in a seething rage. Before Otto could so much as blink, the white Direwolf snapped at his opponent's face with a fury that Otto had never seen before. The black Direwolf, equally surprised and stunned, blinked and retreated one step. By snapping at his opponent's face, Winter had issued the universal challenge of dominance between Direwolves; the fight between an alpha and their challenger for supremacy over the contested pack.

Winter backed away from his opponent with a menacing growl. The two combatants began circling, sizing each other up. The other Direwolves backed away to form a ring around the two opponents. By traditional customs, none were allowed to interfere in the duel.

As the two wolves surveyed one another, Otto took the opportunity to examine the scene as well. By now, it had been nearly a month since the Megalosaurus attack and Winter had managed to recover from his near-fatal injuries. However, the Direwolf was still far from being fully healed, which was painfully obvious from his struggle with daily exercises. Otto often noticed his companion short of breath during their brief excursions to the nearby lake and forest. However, that wasn't to say Winter was weak. Conversely, he had grown exponentially since Otto's initial encounter with him.

During his first day on the island, Winter had only reached his chest. By now, Otto barely reached Winter's _shoulder_. In the short span of less than three months, the Direwolf had nearly doubled in size. The monumental transformation was simply astounding. Otto reflected that even though Winter was slightly taller than him, the Direwolf was far heavier as well, perhaps twice or even thrice Otto's weight. With such an extraordinary size, Winter was easily capable of holding his own against countless other inhabitants of the island. However, Otto was starting to develop doubts about his companion's chance of victory.

A brief analysis of Winter's opponent revealed nothing but bad news. Standing in such close proximity, it was unquestionable that the enemy Direwolf was the larger of the two combatants. He was taller than Winter by half a head and much burlier as well, at least half again the width that the white wolf possessed. The reason behind this disparity was obvious. After the attack on their previous camp, Winter had suffered from an extensive coma, which he nearly starved to death from. Following their arduous journey into the north, Winter had been sustained by salmon and occasionally the rare otter or Megaloceros fawn. This insignificant diet had barely kept him nurtured. Worse still, it completely prevented him from regaining lost weight. Winter was currently on the verge of becoming a sack of skin and bones.

His opponent, on the other hand, was a looming mass of fur and muscle. The enemy Direwolf had a glossy coat of shiny black fur, which gleamed like freshly spilled oil under the moonlight. Beneath his outer layer, the black Direwolf was lean yet surprisingly muscular. His well-defined body rippled like water with even the slightest of movements. Immediately, it was evident that this wolf was at the height of his physical peak. Compared to Winter, the black Direwolf simply shone like a beacon of health. In fact, it seemed to glow with an aura of authority, similarly to Winter.

Suddenly, every observation clicked together within Otto's mind. Urgently, he glanced around at the Direwolves who surrounded the circling combatants. A handful of long-forgotten memories suddenly resurfaced within him.

Otto immediately noticed a plump slate-grey wolf who seemed ready to throw himself into the battle. He was crouched down low and his shaggy coat was bristling in anticipation. Currently, he stood in the very centre of the black Direwolf's cluster of companions. With rapidly mounting dread, Otto observed that one of the grey wolf's ears were completely torn off. He gasped in alarm.

Whirling around, Otto scoped out every other wolf in turn. There, in the corner, two golden Direwolves stood side by side; one male, the other female. They were nearly perfect replicas of each other. _Twins_ , Otto knew at once. And there; a cloudy grey she-wolf, easily the oldest in the pack, yet no less intimidating than any of her comrades. Otto recognized her as well. _The beta female._

He noticed another black wolf, nearly the same shade as Winter's aggressor. Both Direwolves shared the same pitch black hue. Otto shook his head and cursed. _My older sister_ , one part of him whispered, while the other thought, _this can't be happening_. A closer inspection of the other Direwolves confirmed his growing suspicions. Otto quickly reached one prominent conclusion; he recognized this pack of wolves.

Perhaps not him exactly, but an extension of himself. One that had experienced Winter's past. One that had relived the Direwolf's life. Everything suddenly made perfect sense. From Winter's aggressive behaviour, to the pack's initial submission to his authority.

Otto realized that Winter had formerly belonged to this pack.

The connections had been there all along, but Otto had never noticed them. Now they were blatantly obvious to his eyes. Winter's challenger, the black Direwolf, was his father's murderer. _Not just his father either,_ Otto reflected with a pang of rage. The monster had murdered Winter's entire family. By usurping his father's position as alpha, the demon had thrown Winter's life into utter chaos. The monstrous black Direwolf had isolated Winter, both from his home and his pack.

Otto shifted his glare toward the black alpha's equally ruthless second in command. The cowardly grey beta, formerly an omega, stood on the edge of the ring, looking ready to pounce into the fray himself. Otto recognized the miserable beast by his missing ear, the area that Winter had mauled apart in an attempt to tear the beta's throat out. Otto cultivated an intense hatred for the worthless beast. The traitorous Direwolf had turned against Winter's father before his blood was even cold. However, being the first to convert sides, he had jumped positions from omega to beta. During Winter's absence from the pack, the beast had clearly enjoyed a life of luxury under his newfound power. The beta's position guaranteed him choice portions from fresh kills, whereas before it was lucky to eat at all. This allowed the wolf to grow plump and fat, when before it had been a living skeleton.

The beta flicked his tail disdainfully, his eyes narrowed. He was completely absorbed in scrutinizing the fight, though his focus was clearly fixed on Winter's opponent. Otto immediately understood why the beta was so eager to support the black Direwolf. He owed all his success toward his alpha. Without the black Direwolf, this cowardly grey beta was nothing. However, Otto was more concerned about the extents of the grey wolf's loyalty. If his alpha started losing the fight, would the beast interfere?

Before he could dwell on the answer, Otto turned to the beta's right, where the old grey she-wolf crouched. Her aged brown eyes shone with vigour, gleaming as they surveyed the scene. Despite her noticeable age, the beta female seemed ready to intervene at any moment, but not for the same reason as her cowardly male counterpart. _She wants to help Winter_ , Otto realized.

Despite the white Direwolf's prolonged isolation from his pack, a handful of his former companions, such as this old grey she-wolf, remained loyal to him. The beta female had previously been one of Winter's primary caretakers in his youth, and undoubtedly recognized her former charge. If the situation demanded, perhaps she would assist her former protégé.

Standing near the old grey Direwolf were two other familiar faces; the golden twins, of whom Winter had grown up around. Both male and female watched apprehensively as the combatants circled. If Otto were to guess, he would say they favoured Winter over their ruthless black alpha. Their scrawny bodies, previously well-nourished under the reign of Winter's father, were now pockmarked with scars and sores. Judging by the abuse they had suffered since the demise of their previous alpha, neither of them was particularly fond of the black Direwolf.

Finally, Winter's older sister paced back and forth near the outskirts of the duel. The huge black she-wolf came from a previous litter, yet that didn't detract from her bond with Winter. She had always been kind and protective toward her younger sibling. Otto prayed that her kindness would carry through tonight. If so, it might be enough to make a difference in the final outcome of the fight.

Otto took some small degree of comfort from the knowledge that Winter still had potential allies within the pack. Traditionally, no interferences were allowed in a challenge for leadership. But customs be damned, would these Direwolves rush to Winter's aid if his situation took a turn for the worse?

Otto was abruptly jolted from his thoughts by a chorus of blood-curdling snarls. He glanced up, just in time to see Winter and his foe charging at one another with reckless abandon. In just a few swift bounds, the two Direwolves clashed. Winter was smaller than his opponent, but faster as well. He leapt onto his rival's immense back mere seconds before their collision. With his claws, he dug into the alpha's thick black coat. Blood sprayed across the hilltop as the black Direwolf howled in pain.

Winter attacked with a savage fury. His claws sought vengeance on their own, battering his opponent into oblivion. Every strike made the black Direwolf recoil with a pained snarl. Blow after blow landed down upon the alpha, driving him further and further into the blood-stained ground. Just when Otto thought the battle was over, the great black beast surged to his feet with an ear-shattering roar.

Mustering every free bit of his remaining strength, the black alpha lurched to his side, trying to shake his unwanted passenger off. Winter stubbornly clung to his opponent's blood-soaked coat, though his grip was tenuous at best. The alpha abruptly slammed himself onto the side and rolled over, crushing Winter beneath his heavy bulk. Before the white Direwolf could recover, his enemy sprang up with a ferocious growl. Winter tried to maintain his grip on the alpha's back, but the slippery blood and unexpected maneuver made it impossible.

Rather than clinging onto his opponent's pelt as intended, Winter rolled away and scrambled to regain his footing. The black alpha was relentless. Enraged by Winter's initial onslaught, he stormed forward in a blazing fury. The alpha lashed out with a great black paw, his muscular foreleg rippling with tremendous power.

Winter barely swerved away in time. Panting heavily, the white wolf attempted to retreat. Without a moment's respite, the black alpha pursued. He lashed out again. Winter lost his footing in the slick red snow and toppled into the ground, narrowly avoiding the bone-shattering swipe. Before the white Direwolf could recover, his aggressor closed in.

Winter tried to leap away, but exhaustion and poor timing resulted in his ultimate downfall. The black alpha lashed out, his claws gleaming in the moonlight. The vicious attack careened into Winter's scrawny frame with the power of a landslide. Winter went reeling backwards, rivers of blood running down his coat. The alpha was slow but overwhelmingly strong. Infuriated by Winter's earlier assault, the black Direwolf attacked with tremendous power.

Winter snarled in pain as he struggled to regain a steady stance. Emboldened by the sight of blood, his aggressor pursued relentlessly. The black Direwolf barreled into Winter like a boulder, dashing him against the frozen ground. With incomprehensible speed, the alpha darted toward the fallen wolf. His massive jaws were outstretched for Winter's exposed neck.

Transfixed on the fight until this moment, Otto launched himself forward with a startled cry. Before he could get anywhere close to the two combatants, a solid line of Direwolves intercepted his path with menacing snarls. Their message was perfectly clear; no interference.

Interspersed within the living barricade were a handful of the potential loyalists Otto had noticed earlier. Their desperation was evident, yet fear presided over all else. None of them had the courage to intervene. It was up to him alone.

Otto threw himself forward again but recoiled from the barrier. He cursed and prepared for a third attempt, but his brief struggle was drowned out by the sound of explosive snarling. The alpha converged on Winter's neck. Otto Weiss screamed.

Without a second to spare, Winter twisted away from the alpha's frothing maw. Instead of tearing his throat into a bloody pulp, the alpha sunk his teeth into Winter's shoulder. The night erupted into a chorus of grunts and snarls. Winter tried to roll away, but the alpha's grip was unremitting. The black Direwolf's iron jaws were tightly clamped shut around his battered shoulder. With a savage wrench of his head, the alpha plowed Winter into a rock. The white Direwolf slammed into the boulder head-first. He toppled over, golden eyes glazed over. Otto winced from the impact.

Winter struggled to rise. After a few seconds, he promptly collapsed into the ground.

Otto flung himself toward the wounded wolf, only to be repelled once more by the ring of onlookers. He cursed in frustration. _There must be something I can do to help,_ he thought frantically. _Winter won't last much longer on his own._ But throwing himself into the fray was stupid, and pointless besides.

Just then, the ludicrous idea pummeled him from absolutely nowhere. Otto backed away from the Direwolf pack, who were too engrossed in the battle to notice. _This is ridiculous,_ he rebuked himself. But at the same time, it was his only hope. Without him, Winter would perish like his family before him.

Otto felt a pang of rage at the thought. _That monstrous black Direwolf murdered Winter's entire family. There was no one to help him before, but I'm here now. I won't let anyone harm him again._ The black alpha padded forward with deliberately slow steps. In his arrogance, the beast thought he had already won. _But not if I have anything to say about it._

Otto concentrated every free aspect of his mind and willpower on Winter. The Direwolf was bleeding heavily, heaped on the ground like a discarded rag. _Come on, old friend._ Winter didn't budge at all. The black alpha advanced another step. A deep rumble emerged from his throat. He was within lunging distance.

 _You murdered his family._ Otto's hands clenched into fists. _You murdered my family._ His vision blurred. _There was no reason for you to kill my father. But you did. Even after he surrendered. You violated an ancient custom. You decimated my pack._ Otto's breathing slowed. _You're a monster._ The stinging sensation from his wounds faded until everything was numb.

 _You murdered my mother._ Otto's hands trembled. _You murdered my brother._ His ears were ringing. _You murdered my sisters._ Black spots danced across his vision. _Your greed tore my family apart._ Otto's head swam. _You murdered them all._ His vision turned red. _But you made one fatal mistake: you left me alive._

Otto Weiss collapsed. Everything went completely black.

And then he was blinking back to life an instant later. . . watching himself topple over. He growled in alarm, his snowy white fur bristling. _What. . ._ one part of him, the human part, whispered. An instant later, the thought was followed by another. _It worked!_

Otto Weiss lurched forward, his eyes rolled back until only the whites were visible. Joseph rushed forward to catch his unconscious companion. The scene quickly receded as he turned to face his approaching assailant. The black Direwolf snarled in anticipation, an evil gleam in his eye. The beast hobbled toward him, a great black shadow of death.

Winter rose to meet his foe. His wounds, previously cumbersome, had melted away like late summer snows. Strength pulsed through his body, the combined strength of man and wolf. He felt immortal.

His opponent sensed the change as well. Immediately, the alpha's ears perked up and he growled in alarm. The black Direwolf hesitated for the briefest instance. It was enough. Winter pounced with the unremitting force of an avalanche. His rival went flying into the snow, paws splayed outward to catch the fall. Winter was already in pursuit before his enemy touched the ground.

His jaws clamped around a hind leg, heavy with muscle. Winter crunched down with all the strength he could muster. Months of suffering and loneliness were released in one titanic instant. The alpha's leg buckled with a deafening _snap._ Winter's rival howled in pain and retaliated by lunging for his throat.

Winter darted backward with extraordinary speed, easily avoiding the attack. All around him, the pack vocalized their approval with a chorus of howls and barks. The black alpha snarled in fury, enraged at their support for Winter. His eyes narrowed as he glared at every Direwolf in turn. Suddenly, those gleaming green orbs widened at the sight of an opportunity.

The alpha whirled around and limped toward some unseen destination, steadfast in his resolve to succeed. Every step jolted the Direwolf's injured paw, making him wince at the effort. Yet he persisted with a feverish zeal. Winter turned curiously, trying to discover the source of his opponent's excitement. His eyes locked on himself; the human part, Otto Weiss. . . who was heaped on the ground.

Unconscious and defenceless save for Joseph, who was injured, Otto's limp body presented an easy target. Before, the black alpha had cheated in his fight against Winter's father by harming spectators. Now he was ready to again. The alpha broke into a sprint. Winter started after his opponent, but he was too late. He would never make it in time.

Distantly, a part of him wondered what would happen if he died in his body. _Would his two sides be conjoined together forever? Would Otto become a Direwolf?_ These thoughts flashed through his head as the black alpha charged forward.

Joseph raised his wooden bow, but the weapon would be practically useless without any arrows to shoot. Otto was piled by the large man's feet, completely helpless to fight or flee. Winter prepared for the worst.

But before the alpha could tear his human body into bloody ribbons, something surprising happened. A solid line of Direwolves advanced to intercept the alpha's charge. Among their ranks was the grey beta female, the golden twins, Winter's older sister, and others that he recognized from his youth. Together, they snarled and blocked the alpha's path, denying him access to his target.

The black Direwolf skidded to a halt. He snapped at the living barricade ferociously. The Direwolves were unrelenting. They held their ground. The display of unified resistance caused a brief delay. It was long enough for Winter to gain an advantage over his opponent. With an eager snarl, he pummeled the black alpha from behind.

The enemy Direwolf rolled away. Almost immediately, he sprang up with a snarl, unsteady on his feet. Before the alpha could regain his balance, Winter charged again. His startled opponent rushed to meet the attack.

The two Direwolves collided in the centre of the clearing. Fluffy clumps of snow scattered everywhere. Winter was surprised to find his scrawny frame overpowering the alpha's heavy bulk. Even with his enhanced strength, the accomplishment was incredible. Before his initial shock completely wore off, instinct took over. Winter lunged in for the kill while his opponent was still dazed.

He slammed the black alpha against the icy ground with a _crack._ His enemy snarled in pain. Winter lunged for the black Direwolf's exposed throat, his jaws slathering and vision engulfed in flames. At the very last instant, his opponent rolled over, narrowly avoiding the attack and exposing his underbelly in the process. The black alpha had surrendered.

Winter persisted his attack relentlessly.

He didn't care about the pack customs. Not anymore at least. Perhaps he would have spared his enemy in another world. One where his family was never massacred. But they were all dead, murdered at the paws of this demon. And Winter would never let the world forget it.

Rivers of blood opened under the fury of his claws. They sought vengeance with a mind of their own, slashing until the hilltop was drenched in crimson. Briefly, a faint image of Winter's brave grey sister flashed by, encompassing his vision. Winter's grey-furred sister had been mauled to death under the black alpha's orders. He would return the favour. As he tore his opponent into bloody ribbons, Winter felt a heavy burden lifted from his shoulders. His sister's image disappeared with one last satisfied bark.

Next, Winter was visited by visions of his deceased mother and timid black sister. Both had been murdered by the alpha. Both had been disemboweled by his claws. Winter snarled with months of pent-up rage as he charged. The alpha's underbelly was still exposed. His opponent mewled for mercy. Winter tore through flesh and fur relentlessly, dragging out long pink snakes from his enemy's insides. Blood erupted from the alpha's bowels as the images of his mother and sister vanished. Winter's soul felt lighter.

Finally, his brother and father emerged from the mists of his memory. Winter growled longingly for his brother's playful company, for his father's protective shadow looming over him. Both were long-dead, murdered by the black alpha. His brother's neck had been snapped, while his father's throat had been ripped out.

Winter roared with grief as he converged upon the black Direwolf's head. Throwing all his momentum into the attack, he slammed his paws on the alpha's neck until it snapped. The black Direwolf's eyes were glazed over, but there was still the slightest flicker of life within them. With monumental satisfaction, Winter clamped his jaws around the alpha's throat and wrenched his head back. A torrent of blood gushed out in vicious spurts, dark and heavy. Winter's brother vanished with a happy bark. His father stayed longer, casting a proud paternal glance on his son before disappearing forever.

Winter had never felt happier in his entire life.

He threw his head to the heavens and howled, long and mournful. Yet it was a cheerful song as well, one that reflected inspiration and opportunity. Opportunities to grow stronger, to recover from his hardships. Opportunities for a brighter future.

The sun was slowly rising from the east, casting a brilliant golden glare on the land. Winter craned his neck to the west, where the final shadows of night were disappearing. He saw a miniature constellation of stars twinkling in the light of dawn.

One star, largest and brightest of them all, beckoned the others to its side. Five more joined the first, ranging in colour and size; a radiant silver star emerged beside the large white one; another silver star, smallest of the constellation, blinked to life; two glaring grey stars appeared with a flash; finally, a dim dark star emerged beside the others. One by one, the stars disappeared until only the first remained. The huge white star twinkled before vanishing into the remnants of night.

Winter howled again. Finally, it felt as if his burden was gone. His family was happy and free, somewhere in the vast expanse of the heavens. Someday he would join them. But that day was far away. He still had a purpose in life.

A mighty chorus of howls joined his own. Winter glanced around in amazement to witness the other Direwolves lifting their heads. Together, they created a mighty song that encompassed the entire island.

After the last howls died away, Winter found himself surrounded by the pack. At first, nobody moved. Then, Direwolves began bowing down before him. It was only a few individuals at first, the ones that Winter recognized from his youth. Then, miraculously, the strangers joined in. Even the former alpha's circle of lackeys, surrounded by a sea of faithful worshippers, were reluctantly forced into complying.

Finally, Winter found himself encircled by kneeling Direwolves. He was their new alpha. The pack was his.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Happy New Years everybody! I hope everyone had a wonderful year in 2017. Here's to a great 2018!**

 **Alright, so there around 20 Direwolves in the pack, not including Winter. I'll need your help to name most of them (however, not every single one will be named, just the important ones). For now, we'll name 6 every chapter. You can suggest multiple names for every wolf. There is no limit.**

 **Comment using brackets around the selected number. Ex: [1]**

* * *

 **Direwolf 1**

 **Gender:** Male

 **Position:** Beta male (demoted to omega in the next chapter)

 **Appearance:** Slate grey fur. Only has one ear, the other was torn off. Chubby and overfed.

 **Personality:** Cowardly, deceitful, untrustworthy, traitorous, sullen.

 **Status under the reign of Winter's father:** Omega male. He was the lowest ranking wolf in the pack. Nobody trusted him. Nobody treated him kindly.

 **Status under the reign of the black Direwolf:** Beta male. He jumped positions from bottom to top by converting sides right after the black Direwolf won. He was despised by all the other wolves (except the new alpha and their circle of companions) for his deceitful maneuver.

 **Relationship to Winter:** Hated by Winter for his betrayal to Winter's father.

* * *

 **Direwolf** **2**

 **Gender:** Female

 **Position:** Beta female

 **Appearance:** Cloudy grey fur. Oldest wolf in the pack. Largest of all females and larger than most males.

 **Personality:** Calm, wise, patient, protective, trustworthy, loyal.

 **Status under the reign of Winter's father:** Beta female. She was one of the most trusted wolves. She often took care for Winter and his siblings.

 **Status under the reign of the black Direwolf:** She maintained her position as beta female, but the new alpha didn't trust her as much as Winter's father did. She resented her new alpha for murdering Winter's family.

 **Relationship to Winter:** Former caretaker and guardian. A close companion to his deceased parents.

* * *

 **Direwolf 3**

 **Gender:** Male

 **Position:** Low-ranking male

 **Appearance:** Albino Direwolf. White fur. Red eyes. Much smaller than all the other wolves.

 **Personality:** Intelligent, ingenuitive, loyal, dedicated, hardworking, quiet, reserved.

 **Status under the reign of Winter's father:** Was not in the pack.

 **Status under the reign of the black Direwolf:** He was incorporated into the pack by the black alpha. His small stature prevented him from achieving a high rank. He had to rely on his intelligence and cunning to thrive.

 **Relationship to Winter:** None

* * *

 **Direwolf 4**

 **Gender:** Female

 **Position:** Mid-ranking female

 **Appearance:** Pure black fur. Larger than most males and females.

 **Personality:** Quiet, reserved, calm, thoughtful, protective, loyal.

 **Status under the reign of Winter's father:** A mid-ranking female from a previous litter. She chose to stay with her birth pack rather than find a new one, which most Direwolves are supposed to do. Due to her parent's disapproval, she maintained a relatively low-ranking position.

 **Status under the reign of the black Direwolf:** She maintained her mid-ranking position by lying low and avoiding the new alpha. Secretly, she remained loyal to her family and everyone that the black Direwolf murdered. She despised her new alpha for his actions, though she kept her disapproval hidden.

 **Relationship to Winter:** Older sister from a previous litter.

* * *

 **Direwolf 5**

 **Gender:** Male

 **Position:** Mid-ranking male

 **Appearance:** Golden fur, green eyes, average size. Twin to the golden female.

 **Personality:** Adventurous, jovial, cheerful, playful, loyal.

 **Status under the reign of Winter's father:** Although relatively young, he was a respected Direwolf who was entrusted with care taking for Winter and his siblings. He often led them on adventures into the wilderness.

 **Status under the reign of the black Direwolf:** Previously mid-ranking, he dropped a few positions until he was lower than most others. This was because he was one of the last Direwolves to convert sides, and therefore one of the last to receive benefits for doing so. His hatred for the new alpha rapidly swelled because of his maltreatment. He secretly remained loyal to Winter's family.

 **Relationship to Winter:** A former caretaker and playmate from Winter's childhood.

* * *

 **Direwolf 6**

 **Gender:** Female

 **Position:** Mid-ranking female

 **Appearance:** Golden fur, green eyes, average size. Twin to the golden male.

 **Personality:** Calm, collected, reserved, intelligent, loyal.

 **Status under the reign of Winter's father:** Although relatively young, she was a respected Direwolf who was entrusted with care taking for Winter and his siblings. She often followed them along for adventures into the wilderness.

 **Status under the reign of the black Direwolf:** Previously mid-ranking, she dropped a few positions until she was lower than most others. This was because she was one of the last Direwolves to convert sides, and therefore one of the last to receive benefits for doing so. She secretly remained loyal to Winter's familly.

 **Relationship to Winter:** A former caretaker and playmate from Winter's childhood.

* * *

 **6f5e4d, Thanks for the support on the series! Your suspicions about Argentum are definitely correct :)**

 **SoulEater841, I feel honoured that you think my story is great! Thank you :)**

 **DevoutRelic, I hope I answered your questions about Argentum in the second half of last chapter. He is, in fact, a Giga. Anyways, bummer about your tribe getting wiped. Anyways, thanks for the continued support :)**

 **Tall-Gothic-Guy, Sorry that the chapters are taking so long, but there's not much I can do to help it :( Glad that you're enjoying what I have so far though!**

 **TheJaiganticBridge, They might never meet a fully grown Giga, but we can still watch Argentum grow!**

 **ItsJustCrow, Thanks for the name suggestion and the continued support! Glad you're enjoying how I've rewritten this video game into a story!**

 **DefendIce, I'm not taking tame suggestions. Thanks for the Otter name though!**

 **IAmNotBacon, Glad that you're enjoying the story! As for my steam, for anyone that wants to know, its the exact same account name as the one here (DaRumpyBurr) I probably won't have much time to play though :( PS, ignore my messy/fake profile info**

 **xPuppeteer, I'm glad that I have inspired you to write a story! My map is set on the original island, with a few minor modifications. The map was described in chapter 2 when Otto found the dossier. Perhaps it might not have been clear enough, sorry for any confusion!**

 **Yeet boi7, Thanks for the support on my story!**

 **Guest, I will too! Thanks for the kind praise!**

 **Chompking55, Your predictions came true! Thanks for the name suggestions and support as well :)**

 **IAmNotFood, Thank you for the wonderful variety of names. I might even use some one day, if that would be fine with you. Steam is DaRumpyBurr, though I won't have much time to play :(**

 **saucegod, Glad you like it!**

 **Jeremy, Sorry not taking tame suggestions.**

 **Tomahawk24, I'm glad you love the story so much!**

 **Col. William 'Ghost' Defender, I also enjoyed writing the story without the implants and such. Really does make you wonder about the true intentions too!**

 **Re Lupa, Thanks for the supportive comments and name suggestions :)**

 **Peej94, Thank you for the kind praise. It makes me happy to know that some people consider my story one of the best on this site :)**

 **The Last Z Fighter, Tricky situations are what make every story good! Your theory is also (I believe) canon. Helena mentioned something about that in her survivor notes, I believe. Although I could be mistaken.**

 **Grillsyguy, Thanks for the supportive comment! Your wish is granted!**

 **The Dweeb 4252, Thank you for the support! It has been updated as well!**

 **Thanks for taking the time to check out my first fanfiction, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I will try my best to upload as regularly as possible. Feel free to comment, ask question or criticize my story, review is always welcome. And i** **f you like what you saw, make sure to check out the other ARK: Survival Evolved fanfictions out there. Have a great rest of your day or night.**

 **-DaRumpyBurr**


	14. Joseph IV

Joseph IV

Having a massive pack of Direwolves at your disposal certainly made life easier. _Almost too easy,_ Joseph reflected as the Megaloceros buck toppled over. Dozens of wolves converged upon the giant elk, snarling with glee as they mauled it apart. Within seconds, the beast was nothing more than a limp carcass.

Joseph charged into the fray with his spear raised high, shouting at the top of his lungs. To either side, Otto and Willam did likewise. The assembled Direwolves scattered from the fresh kill, growling as they eyed the newcomers. A few of the bloodthirsty beasts snarled at the humans, crouching as if to leap. Joseph shuddered but held his ground.

This was the job he hated most. No matter how long he spent around the Direwolves, they never ceased to frighten him. Ever since the night they attacked, Joseph had felt uneasy around the beasts. Unlike their alpha, many Direwolves still behaved like feral monsters around their human allies. Joseph often found himself wondering whether the current day would be his last.

The question had plagued him for ten days now. Luckily, he survived through them all. For all their growling, snarling, and glaring, the Direwolves never attacked him. At least not yet.

Joseph wasn't about to push his luck. He unsheathed his Sabertooth dagger and plunged it into the deceased Megaloceros, angling the blade upward. With all the haste he could muster, Joseph worked his dagger under the tawny pelt. Otto skinned the other side while Willam defended the kill. The assembled Direwolves watched impatiently. They never enjoyed the humans interfering in their hunts.

However suicidal their mission seemed, Joseph understood its necessity. Left to the wolves, the carcass would have been shredded into a bloody pulp. The only way the humans salvaged decent pelts was by skinning the kill before the wolves could feast. Unfortunately, that was easier said than done.

Droplets of sweat trickled down Joseph's back as he worked. A dozen bloodthirsty eyes scrutinized his every movement. A few Direwolves paced back and forth, snarling whenever they neared the carcass. Joseph's hands trembled uncontrollably.

Having Winter nearby eased his tattered nerves. As the alpha male, the white Direwolf was privileged with the honour of feeding first. None of his packmates dared to eat before him. Undoubtedly, Winter's position was the only reason Joseph hadn't perished already. The other Direwolves would wait for their turns as long as their alpha hadn't finished feasting.

Even then, there was a strict limit to their patience. Joseph feared it was already nearing its end. He sawed fur from flesh with unprecedented haste. From the corner of his eye, he saw Direwolves shifting and snarling. Hopefully Willam could hold them off just a moment longer. . .

 _Snap!_ Joseph grunted in relief as his dagger slashed through the last tendons. Hide parted from flesh and Joseph snatched the pelt away. From the opposite side, Otto liberated a similarly sized fur. The other man nodded before retreating from the carcass with his newly acquired prize. Joseph quickly followed. An urgent tug at Willam's fur cloak got his attention. Together, the humans abandoned the butchered elk corpse.

Just in the nick of time, Joseph noted with an involuntary shudder. No sooner had they retreated than a number of Direwolves charged at the human group. The beasts snarled and snapped with reckless abandon as they drove the intruders away. Joseph hobbled as fast as he could, but his injuries still hadn't healed. Even now they hindered his movement, forcing him to stop for breath. Joseph whirled around and brandished his spear against the bloodthirsty horde. With rapidly mounting dread, he realized they weren't stopping. Joseph frantically waved his spear around like a crazed lunatic, bellowing at the top of his lungs. The monsters persisted.

Suddenly, a deafening howl pierced the air. Winter snarled ferociously, reprimanding his unruly subordinates with a vocal onslaught. The advancing Direwolves balked. Tails tucked between their legs, the beasts retreated to their alpha without a backwards glance. One by one, they ducked their heads and flattened their ears, seeking Winter's forgiveness. He growled, warning them against such behaviour again. The chastised Direwolves shrank away in shame, trying to make themselves seem as inconspicuous as possible.

Winter growled one final time to emphasize his message before returning to the Megaloceros carcass. Joseph sighed in relief, relaxing his grip on the spear. Occasionally, the alpha would discipline his packmates whenever they misbehaved. It was usually because of their harassment and aggression toward the humans.

"I think they're starting to like us," Willam grinned breathlessly.

Perhaps defying death on a daily basis had negative effects on sanity. Joseph burst out laughing at Willam's absolutely ludicrous idea. "You're insane."

"No, truly," Willam's earnest expression only plunged Joseph into another fit of laughter. The old man chuckled with him. "I was able to fend them off a few seconds longer this time."

"It's certainly an improvement over before," Joseph grinned.

Perhaps his companion was right. During the start of their uneasy alliance with the pack, the Direwolves hardly tolerated their presence at all. Only through persistent cooperation did the groups start trusting one another.

Joseph good-naturedly clapped his companion on the shoulder before following Otto, who had already advanced ahead. Weiss hauled his newly acquired pelt onto their wooden sled, which was parked between two massive snowdrifts. Unlike the rickety wooden board their group had used during their journey north, this was a fully-fledged toboggan capable of carrying passengers. Joseph took a moment to admire their handiwork.

They had laboured on this project for nearly a week; cutting trees until their hands were blistered and measuring dimensions until their heads ached. But in the end, their effort and determination yielded impressive results. The sled was longer than two Direwolves standing snout to tail. It only possessed a quarter of the width, but there was easily enough room to accommodate all the humans and even a massive heap of supplies. The main platform was elevated off the ground by a pair of sturdy runners, which allowed for swift travel and sharp turns. The wooden framework was crafted from an Ash grove near the camp.

Already, a mountain of furs was piled in the back, secured by a long fibre rope stretched taut by its immense burden. Otto unfastened the bondings and discarded his newly acquired pelt on the growing heap. Joseph dragged his own prize over and dumped it on the pile.

"That's the fourth elk today. We'll have enough hide to last a month."

"Perhaps even two," Otto grinned in reply, tying the rope back together with a crisp tug. Having disposed of his pelt, Joseph turned around to observe the pack.

Winter stalked up to their kill, silent as a shadow. Among his many other privileges, the alpha always fed first. The Direwolf buried his muzzle in the abdomen and tore it open. Winter devoured the choicest flesh and organs until he was stuffed to the brim. After feasting on his share, the great white Direwolf abandoned the kill unceremoniously.

Next, Winter's two betas took their turns. Shina, the old grey she-wolf, and Dust, the large brown male, approached the carcass together. Both Direwolves picked through Winter's leavings until they were satisfied. There was a cacophony of snarling and growling from the remaining Direwolves as the betas finished their meals.

When the carcass was vacant, the other wolves feasted. In pairs and sometimes larger groups, Direwolves mauled the elk carcass apart. For the most part, transitions between one group and the next were fluid and organized. Direwolves fed according to their rank, from highest to lowest. Occasionally, brief skirmishes would occur between the beasts, with the victor feeding first and the loser waiting their turn. The pack's dynamic was constantly shifting as some Direwolves climbed in position, while others dropped down. Watching their displays of dominance and submission was an especially confusing affair.

Joseph knew the feast was over when One-Ear approached the carcass. Without any exceptions, the cowardly grey omega was _always_ the last to feed. The end of every community event was usually marked by his timid appearance.

Joseph clambered onto the wooden sled as the pack returned from their banquet, leaving One-Ear to pick through their leftover scraps and bones. Many Direwolves milled about, waiting for their alpha's next command. Joseph discovered that the beasts were significantly more docile after feasting on fresh kills. Whenever the Direwolves were happy, they were less prone to snap and snarl at their human allies. . . which would work in Joseph's favour for his next stunt.

He groaned apprehensively as Winter approached the sled, shepherding four of his largest packmates. The selected Direwolves were no less enthusiastic about their job than Joseph. Defying their alpha was out of the question, so instead the beasts took their anger out on him. They snarled and snapped, eyes gleaming with fury. Rather than back down, Joseph stood his ground. It was a nerve-wracking ordeal, but absolutely crucial. The Direwolves had to understand that he wasn't somebody they could bully around. Joseph waved his arms, shouted, and glared at his aggressors.

Unfortunately, things never worked the way he wanted. The Direwolves were completely unfazed by his resistance. They pounced with fearsome snarls, fully intent on drawing blood. Joseph tripped over himself in his haste to retreat. He would have died had it not been for Winter, who intercepted his subordinates with an outraged roar. The alpha reared up on his hind legs and swatted a Direwolf down before lunging for another. The two beasts rolled to a stop with Winter on top, snapping at his opponent's neck. The other Direwolf flattened his ears and flashed his underbelly in defeat.

The remaining three wolves quickly surrendered to their alpha with timid whimpers. Joseph exhaled in relief as Otto offered him a hand, pulling him up from the ground. Winter might be new at leading, but what he lacked in experience he easily compensated for with willpower. None of the other Direwolves could withstand his authority. . . luckily for Joseph, otherwise he would have perished long ago.

Winter reprimanded his unruly subjects with a few harsh growls before flicking his head at the wooden sled. Reluctantly, they shambled over with their heads hung low. Joseph gulped apprehensively as the four massive Direwolves trotted over. One glared at him with malice in its eyes, but a snarl from Winter made the beast avert its gaze. The four selected Direwolves unenthusiastically arrayed themselves in two rows before the sled.

Joseph approached the beasts warily, a bulky leather harness in hand. To either side, Otto and Willam carried similar contraptions as they advanced. Joseph's breathing slowed and his arms trembled. He stopped close enough to reach out and brush the nearest wolf's coat. The beast's fur bristled when it sensed him behind it. Joseph gulped nervously. With escalating dread, he closed the distance between himself and the Direwolf.

Joseph's grip was so unsteady that he practically dumped the harness onto his target. He expected the Direwolf to lunge at him, jaws frothing and eyes blazing. Fortunately, the beast only growled and remained still. He sighed in relief before bending over to adjust the leather straps. Joseph worked as fast as he could, his fingers flitting about like crazed insects. They tightened knots and straightened ropes, adjusting the harness to its new owner. He trembled as he worked, praying that he could finish without making any mistakes. The Direwolf certainly wouldn't enjoy waiting longer than it was obligated to.

Joseph retreated a few steps from the beast as soon as he was finished. Immediately, the short distance made him feel safer. Being in such close proximity to a feral Direwolf created a terrifying experience that Joseph wasn't keen on repeating. Unfortunately, there were four wolves and only three humans. . . meaning somebody would have to harness two of the beasts. Joseph was already dreading the ordeal to follow.

He searched the wooden sled for the final leather harness, only to come up empty-handed. Joseph turned around, scanning for the missing piece. Willam was currently struggling with the last buckle on his wolf's harness. He still hadn't finished adjusting his original piece. On the other hand, Otto had already harnessed a Direwolf, who was patiently awaiting its next order. The missing harness was in Otto's grasp, where he was currently adjusting it to a second Direwolf. The beast waited just as patiently as the first, even wagging its tail as Otto worked.

The man was half a wolf himself. He interacted with various pack members easily and they, in turn, treated him as one of their own. There was a mutual respect between Otto and the Direwolves. Part of it originated from his extensive bond and friendship with Winter. However, most of Otto's reputation was a result of his own initiative. One prominent incident stuck out in Joseph's mind.

During the first few days of coexistence between the wolves and humans, many beasts had attempted to impose themselves over Joseph and his friends. Winter protected them from many of the initial attacks. However, matters were entirely different when the alpha was off hunting or patrolling. The remaining Direwolves grew wild and unruly without a leader to chastise them. Most of them continued their previous attempts to dominate the humans.

One-Ear, the cowardly grey omega, was among this group of stubborn individuals. Emboldened by Winter's absence one day, he attempted to carve himself a new social niche by harassing the humans. One-Ear's fatal mistake nearly cost him his worthless life.

For Joseph, it was usually a terrifying ordeal whenever Direwolves imposed themselves over him. However, it was simply insulting when the low-ranking omega tried. The worthless beast posed absolutely no threat to him. Joseph wasn't frightened so much as annoyed. However, Otto was completely outraged.

The instant One-Ear bared his fangs and puffed his chest, Otto went berserk. He kicked the cowardly omega into a snowdrift before pursuing relentlessly. In a sudden flash of white, his Sabretooth dagger was free, gleaming for blood. One-Ear yelped in surprise, tail tucked between his legs. Otto slammed the beast against the ground, his eyes smouldering with fury. Suddenly, the blade was pressed against the omega's neck.

One-Ear rolled over, flashing his underbelly in defeat. It took the combined strength of Joseph and Willam to restrain their friend. Together, they managed to haul Otto away before he could stab the Direwolf to death. During the entire struggle, the pack was silent. However, at One-Ear's swift defeat they barked and snarled with approval. In their eyes, Otto had dealt with the threat just as efficiently as the best of themselves. From that moment, the Direwolves treated him as one of their own.

 _Respect travels a long way in this world_ , Joseph reflected as Otto finished the final harness adjustments. Joseph watched, envious of his friend's ability to control the Direwolves so easily. Otto had a natural talent for taming the beasts.

Joseph returned to the sled with Otto on his heels. The two men boarded easily, even with Willam already present; there was more than enough room for everybody. Joseph shuffled to the rearmost position, his back tucked against the heap of furs. Otto took his customary position at the front, his leather reins in hand. The straps were connected to each of the four harnessed Direwolves, who were growling uncomfortably. Otto silenced their complaints with a few hushed whispers.

Having four of the beasts was slightly excessive, but better than the alternative. Joseph knew that two Direwolves were capable of pulling the sled themselves, albeit slowly. However, four were required to keep up with the rest of the pack.

Winter howled to attract his pack's attention. The great white Direwolf bounded off toward home with his subordinates following close behind. Joseph adjusted his seat, balancing himself in the middle of the wooden platform. He gripped the sides to brace himself from falling. Up ahead, he noticed Otto and Willam doing likewise. When everyone was settled, Otto spurred the team forward with a shout and a flick of his reins.

The Direwolves sprinted forward at full speed, their long legs flicking the snowy ground. Immediately, the sled accelerated until it was barreling ahead at full speed. Joseph clung to the wooden platform desperately. Every jolt of the sled rattled his mending ribs, causing involuntary groans and curses. Powdery snow stung his eyes and gusts of wind pummeled his broken body. Joseph blinked back tears, struggling to see.

When Joseph's vision finally cleared, his initial panic melted away, replaced by delirious joy. They raced over gentle snowdrifts, fluffy as a newborn pup's fur. Trees and rocks vanished behind them, gone in the blink of an eye. The sled skimmed across the snow with unseen wings. They constantly found themselves airborne, propelled into the sky by icy white ramps. Joseph laughed with glee as they crested a muddy bank and soared over a churning grey river.

No matter how often he rode the sled, he never grew accustomed to its speed. Joseph had spent his entire life travelling on foot, apart from his rides on Sarah while the Triceratops was still alive. The lumbering beast, gentle as she had been, was no match for a team of Direwolves.

It was Otto's idea to harness the wolves, using their strength and speed to power the sled. It was always the same four beasts who formed the team; they were the largest and strongest of the pack. However, Joseph hadn't failed to notice the second connection the wolves shared. They were the former alpha's lackies.

Winter never truly forgave the beasts who had supported his father's killer. Forcing them to pull the sled was a form of punishment. Not only was it physically exhausting, but socially demeaning as well. Being chained into labour like slaves was completely humiliating for the chosen wolves. Whereas before they enjoyed high-ranking positions of luxury, now they suffered as low-ranking beasts of burden.

In fact, the entire pack's social hierarchy had been inverted after Winter's takeover. High-ranking wolves found themselves in low positions, and vice versa. Joseph knew the momentous change wasn't Winter's fault. The drastic social inaccuracies within the pack had originated from his predecessor's reign. The black alpha, desperate for support after his violation of traditional customs, had rewarded his most loyal supporters, regardless of their physical or mental prowess. The most renowned example of this was One-Ear's transition from omega to beta. The cowardly grey wolf didn't possess a fraction of the skills that qualified his position. Yet One-Ear's feverish support for the black Direwolf was everything he needed.

Alternatively, the black alpha punished those who refused to obey. Direwolves that had been loyal to Winter's family found themselves at the bottom of the hierarchy, regardless of their strength or skill. After Winter finally reclaimed his pack, he corrected the mistakes of his enemy by reverting the social order to its former state. Positive qualities such as ingenuity, cunning, determination, bravery, and strength, determined a wolf's position. Free handouts were completely abolished under Winter's reign. Ranks were earned, not assigned.

With that established, Winter's first move was to dethrone One-Ear from his position as beta. With the cowardly beast out of the way, there was suddenly room for a new beta male. Winter's packmates competed for the position. Many claimants appeared, but only one prevailed; Dust, the annexed brown alpha.

Joseph knew nothing of the wolf until Otto provided insight into the mysterious beast's origins. Dust had once been an alpha male himself; the leader of a pack of six. However, his position was lost to Winter's father after the white Direwolf returned north, reclaiming his summer residence. Dust had unknowingly encroached upon the white alpha's territory during his absence. Smaller and weaker than Winter's father, Dust was quickly overpowered by the larger Direwolf. Despite his valiant effort, Dust was defeated and assimilated into the larger pack.

Throughout the following months, the Direwolf did an excellent job of simultaneously remaining inconspicuous while also climbing the ranks. Dust's crippling defeat was a humbling experience that taught him a crucial lesson; no matter how strong you are, there's always someone stronger. Instead of denying that fact with stubborn determination, Dust embraced it. Rather than resent Winter's father for his victory, Dust respected him all the more. Gradually, the defeated alpha learned to obey and became a prominent member of his new pack.

Then everything changed.

The death of Winter's father threw the pack into pure chaos. The immediate effects were absolutely devastating. At the time of the white Direwolf's duel against the black, there were twenty-one wolves in the pack. After the fight, only eleven remained.

All five of Winter's family members were slain; his father, mother, brother, and two sisters. The young Direwolf himself had been exiled to the distant jungles, increasing the count of missing wolves to six. Furthermore, four other beasts had died on the night; three Direwolves that perished hunting Winter's family; and the former grey beta, who had died defending his friends.

At the end of that bloody night, ten wolves had either been killed or chased away. The heavy loss left the pack at half of its former strength, with a brutal new alpha in charge. Following the carnage, Dust distanced himself as much as possible from the black Direwolf, fearing the monster's wrath.

A handful of new wolves joined the pack in the subsequent months, replenishing their depleted ranks. Eleven grew to nineteen; nowhere near their previous strength, but a significant improvement over before. However, the abuse persisted. Their new alpha was a wretched creature, sullen and ferocious. He would take his rage out on the pack whenever something made him angry. Along with his mistreated packmates, Dust soon found himself secretly dreaming of his new alpha's demise

Dust's wish came true when Winter returned. The white Direwolf liberated their broken pack from the ruthless leader and set everything right again. Though young and inexperienced, Winter had a certain zeal reminiscent of his late father. Dust recognized greatness in the white Direwolf, the same essence that his father had possessed. When the position for beta opened again, Dust was eager to serve.

Joseph studied the lean brown Direwolf carefully. Winter's second-in-command was a loyal servant, though still learning to trust his human allies. Joseph himself had experienced a few unpleasant run-ins with the beast, none of which had ended particularly well. Though for what Dust lacked in amiability, he made up for with competence. The beast was an exceptional beta and had all the markings of a great leader. Dust was adept at handling unruly subordinates and commanding respect, traits that greatly helped Winter transition into his position as alpha. Dust's skills were absolutely essential to enforcing the white Direwolf's reign.

However, Dust was not the best suited for every aspect of leadership. When it came to making important decisions for the pack, Winter turned to his other beta for counsel. Indeed, Winter's male and female subordinates were polar opposites of one another. While Dust was bold and aggressive, Shina was calm and wise. The elderly grey she-wolf was the oldest in the pack, and with her age came years of invaluable experience.

Under Shina's careful guidance, Winter was able to govern his pack judiciously and responsibly. He was able to settle internal disputes between packmates and make the best decisions for everyone. But most importantly, Shina maintained peace between the humans and the pack itself. Without her, Winter would never have been able to unite both worlds.

Shina had been sociable toward the humans from the very beginning. Unlike her vicious brethren, the Direwolf immediately understood the importance of cooperating with her new allies. She had already attempted to coerce her packmates into behaving likewise. Shina had been able to create a general understanding amongst the pack that the humans were allies, not enemies.

Similarly, the beta female had been able to prevent the humans from provoking the pack into violence. Joseph was grateful for her intervention; without Shina's aid, he would have unknowingly offended the pack half a dozen times by this point. Fortunately, the beta female was always nearby to restrain him from acting spontaneously and offensively. Without Shina, bloodshed between the wolves and humans would have been inevitable.

Joseph watched the elderly she-wolf ease into a gentle shamble, slowing down from her sprint in favour of a slower pace. He glanced around and realized the other Direwolves were doing likewise. The pack had returned home. Instinctively, Joseph reached for his Sabertooth dagger. Ever since his first visit, the Den had always made him feel uneasy.

Winter lifted his head and howled. All around him, the returning pack mimicked the sound. Half a dozen unseen wolves returned the greeting from behind a grove of large grey shrubs. Winter disappeared into the undergrowth, swallowed up by the dark vegetation. One by one, his packmates followed into the leaves until only the sled remained. Otto gave the reins a gentle flick and they were suddenly engulfed by darkness.

Icy leaves slapped at Joseph's face as the sled ploughed through the bush. He raised his arm to shield himself from the worst of the vegetation. An instant later, they emerged into the clearing.

A great dark cavern occupied the centre of the grove. Joseph glimpsed movement from inside the wolf den. However, most of the Direwolves were outside grooming themselves, play-fighting, and reclining nearby. A handful perked up at the sled's entrance, eyeing the contraption sullenly. Many of them still weren't accustomed to having foreigners in their home.

The pack had kept the location of the Den a closely guarded secret since they moved here. Never before had outsiders been permitted inside the heart of their territory. . . at least not until Winter forced his subordinates into revealing their home. Since then, the humans had visited periodically ― every few days or so ― to slowly accustom the Direwolves to their presence.

It was essential for the future of both groups. Since the very beginning of their shaky alliance, the pack had made it abundantly clear that they were not abandoning their den to live with the humans. As fortified as the Lookout Hill was, the human camp was still exceptionally vulnerable without defenders and located far from valuable resources as well. Oft as not, the humans were out foraging or hunting. Without a pack of resident Direwolves constantly protecting their camp, the Lookout Hill was a dangerous location to call home.

On the other hand, the Den offered a safe haven for Joseph and his ragtag group. It was expertly hidden, located near an abundance of fresh food and water, and constantly protected by some of the deadliest carnivores in the north. It was perfectly clear which location would make the better home. But if the humans wanted to settle in the Den, they first had to gain the pack's trust.

The task was simple in theory but nearly impossible in reality. Direwolves were naturally territorial, and this pack's previous alpha had left the beasts particularly cautious and untrusting. So far, the humans had made some small degree of progress. The Direwolves were beginning to tolerate their presence for longer periods of time. Joseph hoped his friends would be able to move in soon.

Until then, their short-term solution to the habitation dilemma would have to suffice. Currently, the Lookout Hill was constantly guarded by a handful of trusted Direwolves. No more than two or three ever patrolled the human camp; the pack was already spread thin defending its vast territory and couldn't afford to spare more beasts than necessary. Furthermore, the Lookout Hill was located far away from the Den. It took time and energy to travel between the two camps.

So for now, small groups of Direwolves were periodically sent to guard the human base. The solution was far from perfect but better than nothing. After all, it was only a matter of time before the wolves and humans learned to coexist. Life would become exponentially easier once their two camps merged.

Joseph studied his future home as the sled rumbled to a halt. The Den itself occupied the epicentre of the clearing. It was protected on one side by a sheer cliff face. Rocks and shrubs surrounded the other three sides. All throughout the clearing, the muddy ground had been trampled flat by countless paws. The entire area was concealed from prying eyes by a barrier of towering bushes, tall as a mammoth and nearly as thick. The sheltered location and mild climate of the Den allowed vegetation to thrive.

From the corner of his eye, Joseph noticed something emerge from inside the Den and charge toward the returning pack. More specifically, straight for Winter. It was no more than a blur while sprinting, but Joseph glimpsed fiery green eyes and pitch black fur. _The old alpha's ghost,_ he thought as it slammed into Winter.

The white Direwolf yelped in mock surprise as the bundle of fur clung to his coat. Growling ferociously, the small black pup struggled to stay balanced on the much larger wolf. Winter shrugged his unwanted passenger off goodnaturedly. The pup whined and cocked his head in disappointment. Winter nudged the small wolf cheerfully and summoned one of his packmates with a crisp bark.

A tan Direwolf bounded over with a Megaloceros leg in her jaws. She deposited the morsel on the ground before her alpha. Winter inclined his head in approval and she quickly retreated. With a friendly growl, the alpha slid the meat toward his young companion. The small pup immediately began gorging himself with vicious bites.

Otto chuckled at the sight. "A natural hunter, that Shadow. He better watch out. Here come his siblings."

Sure enough, two more pups were emerging from the Den. At the sight of a fresh meal, they immediately charged into the clearing with exhilarated snarls. The fluffy brown beasts were nearly identical in appearance but Joseph had learned to tell them apart; Dot was marked by the small cluster of white spots that adorned her back, while Dash boasted a sleek white stripe on her tail.

The sisters split apart at the last instant. Dot tackled her brother away from the meal while Dash ripped a morsel off and escaped with her prize. Shadow snarled as he freed himself and chased his attackers, barking ferociously the whole time. Winter watched the trio protectively as his pack barked and howled at their playful antics.

If Joseph didn't know any better, he would assume that the pups were Winter's own children. Such was the way they acted. But the truth was far from reality. The pups belonged to none other than the previous black alpha.

Winter had faced a moral dilemma after his victory over the old alpha. Upon being taken to the Den, he had been surprised to discover a litter of helpless pups. They were at his mercy. Something in Winter snapped the moment he laid eyes on Shadow, who was a mirror image of his father. Fury and disgust flashed across the white Direwolf's eyes.

But as abruptly as the emotions appeared, they were suddenly gone. Winter's eyes softened as the young pups trembled before him. Perhaps he realized they were completely innocent of their father's crimes. Or maybe they reminded Winter of his fallen siblings. Whatever the case, the white wolf chose mercy over vengeance on that fateful day. Winter ended the vicious cycle of murder and revenge by sparing the pups.

It was one of the very few times they had been shown compassion and kindness in their lives, and the pups never forgot about Winter's generosity. Indeed, they honoured and respected him like a father. As a matter of fact, the pups worshipped him more than their own biological father, who had always been cruel and abusive. Winter was the guardian they never had.

Despite his paternal bond with the pups, Winter remained completely indifferent toward their mother. The black alpha's mate had been none other than Sly, the omega female. . . mainly because none of the other she-wolves would have him. However, courting the alpha male had its perks including the guaranteed status of alpha female. Like many other upjumped cronies, Sly had enjoyed a life of luxury under the old alpha's reign.

Everything ended when Winter ascended to leadership. Sly had been demoted to her former position of omega female. Instead of taking the widow as his mate, Winter restored order to his pack by thrusting her to the bottom of the hierarchy where she belonged. However, the endeavour left the pack without an alpha female and the position was currently open for competition.

Joseph noticed Sly lurking within the shadows of the Den. The brown-furred female was quietly glaring daggers at Winter while he played with her pups. Suddenly, something in her demeanour changed. Sly realized she was being watched. Her head snapped straight toward Joseph and she growled. Without a second glance, she whirled around and scampered into the bowels of her nest.

Joseph shuddered and turned away. Something about that wolf unsettled him. It was only a matter of time, he decided, before she started causing trouble. Perhaps her actions would be sparked by anger or jealousy. Maybe she would grow tired of being treated as an omega after experiencing life as an alpha, however brief. Whatever the case, Sly was bound to snap eventually. Joseph would be ready when she did.

"You ready?" A steady hand clamped Joseph's shoulder. Otto gestured at the idling sled and its team.

Joseph nodded and braced himself against the sleigh. Winter noticed his human allies preparing to depart. The alpha gave his young wards a cheerful bark before shepherding the trio back into their Den. Winter reappeared when the pups were safely stowed away. He summoned a few Direwolves to his side and bounded through the bushes. The sled followed.

Within seconds, they were free of the vegetation and barreling toward the distant mountains. Most of the landscape consisted of snowy plains, broken by the occasional forest or hill. The vast emptiness seemed to stretch on forever. Growing bored of the monotone scenery, Joseph glanced around at the Direwolves accompanying the sled.

Most of the pack remained at the Den because only a handful of wolves were needed to escort the sled to the Lookout Hill. The journey was long but fortunately not very dangerous. Altogether, seven Direwolves travelled with the humans; the usual four who pulled the sled, Winter himself, and two of the alpha's trusted packmates. One of which happened to be Winter's older sister, Eclipse.

The black she-wolf shared the same parents as her alpha but came from a previous litter. Though they were both born from the same breeding pair, Winter and Eclipse were more like cousins or half-siblings than true brother and sister. Direwolves rarely remained with their birth pack; normally, they created packs of their own or joined previously established groups. Thus, wolves born from different litters usually never became acquainted with one another.

Nonetheless, Winter and Eclipse treated each other like siblings all the same. Tragedy had bonded the two together. With the rest of their family gone, the two wolves relied upon each other for support.

Joseph studied the other Direwolves travelling with them, but none of the beasts were particularly prominent within the pack. He had no idea about their origins or backstories. _It will take more time for me to learn everything about these wolves_ , Joseph reflected. But time was a resource he possessed in abundant supply. With nothing else to do, Joseph let his mind drift as the sled rumbled steadily forward.

Gentle white hills rolled across the horizon, signifying a subtle change in terrain. Forests and fields fought for dominance over the landscape, deploying battalions of saplings and snowdrifts in their conquest. To the west, a frozen lake gleamed in the glaring sun. A chain of mountains loomed far to the north, large and imposing. The loamy behemoths were covered by trees that shifted and swayed in the wind like hairs. A few dark specks circled lazily around the mountain summits, like flies circling a corpse. Joseph felt his eyelids growing heavy. The steady rocking motion of the sled slowly eased him into a gentle slumber.

* * *

Joseph blinked to life, his head spinning from a chorus of shouts, screams, and snarls. The sled lurched left and right, nearly toppling over from the rapid movement. Joseph tried to make sense of his chaotic surroundings.

Roughly an hour had passed, he judged from the angle of the sun. Though it was hard to be certain with the sleigh spinning in circles. Otto was struggling to regain control of the contraption as his Direwolf team charged in every direction. The ravenous beasts were frenzied by the sharp scent of blood and fear. They snapped and snarled at their wounded prey; an unlucky Rhinoceros calf that had strayed too far from its herd.

Without harnesses to restrict their movement, Winter and his pair of wolves were cornering the beast. They snapped and pounced, driving the calf toward their bloodthirsty brethren. Joseph could tell the Wooly Rhinoceros stood no chance. It was only an infant, no more than a few months old. Unlike the adults of its species, the calf had not yet developed a thick coat of wool. Without the extra layer of protection, the infant would quickly succumb to the vicious attacks of its assailants.

Pitying the poor beast, Joseph unslung his bow and nocked an arrow to the string. The sled was still spinning around like a drunkard, making it nearly impossible to hit any target. Joseph drew the arrow to his ear and steadied his grip on the bow. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, but his concentration was focused on the wounded rhino. The sled finally stabilized itself, if only for an instant. It was enough.

Joseph loosed his arrow. The bow gave a sharp _twang_ as its projectile took flight. Faster than Joseph could comprehend, his arrow zoomed toward the rhinoceros infant and lodged itself in the beast's eye. The calf collapsed an instant later.

Winter and his pack howled victoriously as they converged upon their fallen prey. It was already dead by the time they arrived. Otto eased the sled up beside the beast, grinning as he gazed upon their prize.

"Quite the hunt. Too bad you missed most of it."

"And let you have all the fun?" Joseph retorted. "Never."

The infant's hide was soft and supple. The humans were able to collect it easily. Joseph heaved the rhino's coat onto the mountain of furs atop the sled and fastened it tight. He waited patiently for the Direwolves to finish feasting before collecting his expended arrow. Joseph wiped the gore off in a nearby patch of snow, silently congratulating himself for another flawless kill. He was slowly mastering the bow.

When he returned, Joseph was surprised to find his friends loading the beast's carcass onto the sled. Half the corpse was gone, but it still outweighed all three humans put together. It took a great deal of grunting, cursing, and shoving to secure the carcass. Fortunately, there was enough room to accommodate the deceased rhinoceros.

"For Argentum?" Joseph inquired after the corpse was safely secured.

"Aye. Think it will be enough?" Willam was only half-joking.

Joseph shrugged as he climbed aboard the sled. There was barely enough space for him to sit. "We'll just have to find out ourselves."

Even with the heavy carcass weighing down the sled, the Lookout Hill was only a few minutes away. The journey home was incident-free. In no time at all, the human camp appeared on the horizon.

As he neared, Joseph noticed two distinct shapes patrolling the perimeter of the hill. Both wolves were the same shade of tawny gold. In fact, they were nearly identical save for their respective genders. Apollo, the male Direwolf, and his twin sister, Artemis, were mirror images of one another. Joseph found it impossible to tell the two apart.

Winter barked in greeting as he approached. The twins immediately loped to his side, bowing their heads before the alpha. Winter growled affectionately and granted permission for his subordinates to rise. When it came to interacting with the duo, Winter overlooked most formalities due to his personal relationship with the pair. The twins had been his childhood friends and guardians since the moment Winter first emerged from his mother's den.

The sled halted at the base of the hill. Otto climbed out and walked to the front of the sleigh, where the Direwolf team was idling. He stroked their fur and began unhitching their harnesses. Joseph vaulted from the sled and stretched his weary limbs. He was loath to approach the wolf team for fear of inciting their wrath. It would be much easier to let Otto release the beasts on his own.

Willam joined Joseph, frowning at the rhinoceros carcass. The corpse weighed more than all three humans put together. It would be an ordeal to drag the beast all the way up the Lookout Hill. In the end, it was Joseph who suggested that they slice the carcass into more manageable portions. Willam readily agreed to the plan.

Though the rhinoceros infant's flesh was tender, it still took the better part of an hour to complete the job. Otto came to help when he was finished unhitching the Direwolf team and unloading all their supplies. Joseph and his friends chopped the carcass into roughly a dozen chunks. They split the portions equally between themselves and started up the Lookout Hill together.

Though the tall hill gave the camp its namesake, the human home was actually located on its shorter neighbour. The second hill was more heavily fortified and offered greater protection from the elements. Presently, the Lookout Hill was simply used to watch for enemies, though it had become mostly obsolete after Winter's establishment of a regular Direwolf patrol around both hills. The deadly carnivores had better senses than any human, and could detect enemies approaching from miles away.

That being said, both hills had been fortified in the event of an attack. The shorter mound was encircled by a ring of tall wooden stakes around its perimeter. Behind the wooden palisade was a short but sturdy wall of stone. Countless rocks and boulders had been rearranged to form a solid barricade. The stone wall wouldn't stop any determined attackers, but it would certainly slow them down. A short ditch had been entrenched in front of the barrier, adding yet another layer of defence to the hill. The bottom had been lined with jagged rocks and sharpened stakes.

A few sturdy planks bridged over the narrow moat, allowing easy passage to the other side. The drawbridge could be removed at any moment to isolate the hill from enemies. Joseph slowly made his way across, careful not to stumble and impale himself on the spikes below. He made it over safely, only to find himself pressed against the wooden palisade of sharpened stakes and the stone wall behind it. Both fortifications were as tall as Joseph himself, preventing access to the camp. Joseph circled around the barrier until he found the secret entrance to within.

Excavated at a discreet angle, the sole passageway to inside was impossible to find unless you knew what you were looking for. Joseph carefully lowered himself between two boulders and crawled under the wall. The entrance had been constructed underneath the fortifications so the humans wouldn't have to remove and replace stones everytime they wanted access to the camp.

Joseph emerged from the passageway and found himself inside the camp. He scanned his surroundings as he waited for Otto and Willam to rejoin him. In the very center of the hill was a huge firepit, rimmed by a circle of soot-stained rocks. Although the fire was currently extinguished, a pile of firewood lay nearby for when new flames were needed. Apart from a handful of weapons and tools piled around the hilltop, the camp was surprisingly tidy. Most of the humans' possessions were stored inside the only visible structure; a small igloo huddled between a pair of sturdy boulders.

Their sleeping cots, spare clothing, and other various items were safely stashed within the snow hut. It had been Willam's idea to construct the igloo. The old man had experimented with different materials to find more efficient ways for surviving in the north. He had discovered that packing blocks of snow together created insulation, trapping heat inside the hut. The system worked better than most campfires when it came to warming a survivor up.

However, the igloo wasn't for any of the humans but rather Argentum. With Joseph and his friends out hunting and foraging most days, the young Tyrannosaurus was left alone. There was no way for Argentum to keep the campfire going on his own, so certain measures had to be taken for the infant's survival. Luckily, the igloo was perfect for keeping the cold-blooded beast alive and well.

As if thinking about the infant could summon him, Argentum emerged from the igloo and growled to acknowledge Joseph's presence. As usual, the young Tyrannosaurus was accompanied by Spectre. The albino Direwolf was Argentum's constant companion. Being outcasts from the pack's hierarchy, the two beasts had quickly bonded with one another. Now they were practically inseparable.

Argentum was no Direwolf, that was painfully clear. . . and painfully troublesome. If the humans and Direwolves had trouble getting along, Argentum's situation was a hundred times worse. The infant was drastically different from both his human masters and Direwolf allies. This physical disparity had caused harassment and discrimination. Most wolves treated Argentum like an omega, even though the infant wasn't part of their pack. This problem would already have been bad enough with any other creature, but Argentum was a special case.

The infant's violent tendencies and rapidly growing size resulted in defiance and retaliation against the abuse. Argentum had already clashed with a few Direwolves. Luckily, Winter and the humans had managed to separate the combatants, but not before blood was drawn and wounds were inflicted. It was only a matter of time before fatalities resulted from the disputes.

Otto's solution to the problem was to keep Argentum isolated from the wolves, at least until they learned to accept him. There was certainly enough distance between the Lookout Hill and the Den to separate the quarrelling beasts. Until then, only a handful of Direwolves was ever introduced to the Tyrannosaurus at a time. Interactions had certainly been more peaceful following Argentum's isolation, and he had even befriended a few of the more cooperative wolves.

Until recently, Spectre had been the omega male. The other wolves had seen his small size and albino status as signs of weakness. Even after One-Ear had taken Spectre's position as omega, the albino was still treated like an outsider. The only creature who had ever viewed Spectre as an equal was Argentum. Following their initial introduction to one another, the outcasts became fast friends. Spectre was like a mentor to young Argentum, passing his wisdom and experience onto the infant.

Amusingly, their unique dynamic remained unchanged despite Argentum's rapid growth in size. When they first met, Argentum was smaller than Spectre. Currently, the Tyrannosaurus was slightly larger than his friend and still growing. It was only a matter of time before Argentum towered over the albino. Joseph had no doubt that every other member of the pack would be dwarfed in turn.

Without any warning, Argentum roared happily and charged somewhere to Joseph's right. He swerved away to avoid a collision with the infant, and turned to see the source of the commotion. Willam had emerged from the hidden passageway only to be pummeled by a few hundred pounds of overjoyed Tyrannosaurus. The old man was thrown backward into the stone wall, laughing with glee despite the surprise attack. Argentum's rapid growth became especially obvious when compared to his master. Before, the young predator had stood at Willam's waist. Now, Argentum reached the old man's chest. Willam grinned as the infant rubbed affectionately against his side.

Joseph felt something warm press against his own chest. He glanced down to find Spectre nuzzling his side in the hope of panhandling a free meal. Joseph had forgotten about the Wooly Rhinoceros meat in his arms.

"Why hello there," he grinned at the wolf. Spectre barked in reply. "Good to see you too, friend." Joseph dangled a chunk of meat before the albino, and Spectre eagerly accepted the offering.

The small wolf began tearing at the meal timidly, scanning his surroundings for potential aggressors. Joseph smiled and stroked Spectre's pale white coat. The albino Direwolf was truly different from his brethren. Aside from Winter, Spectre was the only wolf that Joseph trusted. The small beast had never acted aggressively toward any of the humans. Instead, Spectre had tried to befriend his new allies through acts of submission and goodwill.

 _An outcast needs all the friends he can get,_ Joseph reflected. It had been the same with Hawk. The small Dilophosaurus had been rejected by her own kind due to her small stature. She had turned to Joseph for a companion, and it seemed the same was happening here with Spectre. _It's a start._ Joseph offered the albino another chunk of meat. _Perhaps it is possible for us to get along. It won't happen today, or tomorrow, or even a month from now, but eventually the Direwolves will trust me. It's just a matter of time. . ._

 **Author's Note:**

 **Sorry this was three months late, but here's an extra juicy chapter. It's not my longest, but longer than most. Thanks for everyone who came out with name suggestions. Don't worry if yours wasn't chosen. There are plenty more opportunities to come.**

 **The Dweeb 4252, thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed it! And there will be a few children, though none of them will be POV characters.**

 **The Last Z Fighter, unfortunately I won't have respawning and leveling in my story. However, I do intend on adding some not-in-game creatures to the story eventually!**

 **BlackHum3r, thanks for the name suggestion, even though I didn't take it. Don't worry, there's always next time!**

 **Blueberrium, thanks for the name suggestions! I didn't exactly take your suggestions for the twins, but the greek/roman gods idea inspired me to choose Apollo and Artemis in the end. Also, you are completely correct! Betrayals will happen eventually, and then some exciting action can kick off!**

 **King Endercreeper, this is definitely the part where they become a huge northern powerhouse. And your prediction is absolutely right. Human competition is closer than you think as well... maybe even next chapter. But then again, who knows? (except for me lol)**

 **JesuMesu, thanks for the support! I hope you enjoy the rest of my story!**

 **IWillNotDie, yes the rage mechanic will indeed be included! Quite unfortunate considering the effects...**

 **Guest, thanks for the support and name suggestions! I couldn't take any of yours, but there's always next time!**

 **Friday Knight, thanks! I'm glad your enjoying my story!**

 **Tamahawk,** **thanks for the name suggestions! Unfortunately, I couldn't take any of yours, but don't worry! There are plenty of chances to come!**

 **Geust, you're 100% right!**

 **DefendIce, yes I take suggestions for names but not tames!**

 **RebelVale23, glad you're enjoying my story and the mind connection element of it! Otto's talent is only just beggining to develop.**

 **Dinolion92, glad you're loving everything lol! Thanks for the name suggestions as well! Don't worry if they aren't chosen, there are plenty more opportunities in the future!**

 **haydenunstopable, thanks for the suggestion but I already took someone elses name. You can always keep suggesting next time!**

 **Thanks for taking the time to check out my first fanfiction, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I will try my best to upload as regularly as possible. Feel free to comment, ask question or criticize my story, review is always welcome. And i** **f you like what you saw, make sure to check out the other ARK: Survival Evolved fanfictions out there. Have a great rest of your day or night.**

 **-DaRumpyBurr**


	15. Otto VII

**Otto VII**

* * *

The afternoon was crisp and chilly, with a hint of fresh excrement in the air. Thunderous bellows rumbled throughout the barren hills, causing small pebbles to jump and prance about like tiny dancers. A sigh of piney wind brought the mammoth scent to him, over fainter smells that spoke of stag and hound, boar and bear, even other wolves. Winter sniffed the air and growled. Prey was nearby.

The magnificent white Direwolf threw his head back and howled, summoning his packmates to his side. Winter leapt from his boulder and bounded toward the scent of flesh and fur. Dozens of wolves followed with bloodthirsty snarls. Dust peeled off to the left flank while Shina took the right. Winter himself claimed the centre. He spurred his pack forward, emboldened by the intoxicating stench of unwary prey. The mammoth herd was still completely oblivious to their impending doom.

Winter tossed his head and Dust veered away from the main group, leading half a dozen seasoned hunters. The brown Direwolf disappeared behind a cluster of boulders. Shina accelerated toward the herd with two of the pack's swiftest following hard on her heels. Though elderly, the beta female was long of limb and surprisingly quick for her age. She would cut off the mammoths' retreat. Winter himself remained on course, leading the bulk of his force for a head-on assault.

His paws stroked the icy ground, crashing through snowdrifts and sending great clouds of soft white powder into the frigid air. The wind tugged at his fur and howled in his ears like a wolf in mourning. Winter cherished the sensation, his tongue dangling and eyes gleaming. He never felt more alive than during the hunt. Especially with such mighty prey.

The mammoth herd consisted of a relatively standard family unit; an elderly matriarch, her five female relatives, and three of their calves. Nine in total, against Winter's nineteen. Aside from sheer numbers, the wolves also had surprise on their side. By the time the mammoths realized their danger, it was already too late.

The matriarch lifted her head in alarm as she sensed the incoming pack. She tossed her trunk into the air and trumpeted to warn her family of the approaching enemies. The mammoths hastily shuffled into a defensive circle, with their young tucked away inside. But the herd had been caught off guard and they were slow to react.

Dust exploded from his cover on the left, and charged into the centre of the ring before the mammoths could close the gap. All six of the beta's followers formed a wedge behind their leader, snarling with glee. Three frightened calves bellowed in terror as the predators joined their ranks. But the wolves weren't after the younglings; they had larger prey in mind. Their target was a large grey female, crippled from some recent accident. The wounded mammoth had been left slow and feeble from her incident, and the Direwolves were quick to take advantage of her weakness.

Having realized the predators were behind her, the injured mammoth turned to defend herself. Dust pounced on the beast's tusks, using his elevated position to snap at her face. She flinched away from the vicious attack, tossing her head to shake Dust off. The other Direwolves charged at her flanks and locked their heavy jaws around fur and flesh. The mammoth bellowed in agony, backing away as swiftly as her injured leg would permit. The fatal mistake would be her last.

After being separated from her herd, the mammoth was easy prey. Dust's group persisted their attack relentlessly, while Winter charged into the battle with his packmates close behind. An endless wave of Direwolves pummeled the mammoth away from her island of safety. The other herbivores were helpless to do anything but watch as their sister was slowly overwhelmed. A handful of Direwolves clambered onto the wounded beast's back. Others harried her flanks with tooth and claw. The bulk of their force was concentrated on her front, with Winter leading the charge. However, the mammoth wasn't going down without a fight.

She swung her deadly tusks from side to side, sweeping Direwolves away whenever they got too close. Occasionally, she would rear up on her hind legs and come crashing down with all her weight. Fortunately, none of Winter's packmates were trampled beneath the heavy beast. As fatigue claimed the mammoth, her stomps came less frequently and eventually ceased altogether. Bloody, battered, and broken, the mammoth finally realized she couldn't overpower her attackers.

With a grunt of distress, the wounded beast turned tail and hobbled away. . . only to find Shina and her followers blocking the path to freedom. They snarled and barked to keep the mammoth at bay. The momentary distraction was enough time for Winter's group to encircle their quarry once more. Direwolves surged forward in an endless stream, snarling and snapping with renewed vigor. The injured mammoth backed away, swinging her tusks to hold her attackers off. It wasn't enough.

The wounded beast retreated another few steps, only to find herself pressed against the edge of a cliff. There was nothing but a sheer drop behind her. The panicked mammoth struggled to distance herself from the edge, but it was already too late. Winter pounced on the beast, throwing all his momentum into the attack. The mammoth was forced back a single step, but it was enough. She went tumbling off the cliff, flailing and trumpeting as the icy ground rushed to meet her. Then, there was silence

The pack was already charging down the snowy slopes to claim their prize, howling with glee. The enormous mammoth carcass would feast them for days. Winter loped toward the fallen beast swiftly, savouring the scent of their fresh kill. But mixed with the smell of blood and forest was something else. . . something new and exciting that Winter had yet to encounter.

He snapped his head toward the direction of the scent, but whatever beasts had created it were long gone. In their wake was a trail of footprints, small and ovular. Winter growled at the tracks, his fur bristling. Before he could investigate further, he was interrupted by the distant screech of a circling Argentavis. Glancing around, the great white Direwolf noticed scores of crows roosted on some nearby trees, waiting for their turn to feast upon the mammoth.

Winter snarled at the carrion birds, scattering them into the sky. The great black cloud took wing, only to settle down upon a grove of trees farther away. The alpha shook his head, making up his mind. The trail would have to wait. For now, there was a feast to be had.

Otto awoke in the Den, craving for flesh. His stomach rumbled loudly as he pushed himself into a sitting position. Otto pressed a hand to his forehead and it came back covered with beads of sweat. He groaned and stood up, clutching a wooden wall for support. His senses felt dull as they always did after wolf dreams. Everything felt so much more _alive_ when he saw through Winter's eyes; the rustle of wind stirring the trees, and the sharp scent of fear clouding the air. Every sensation was enhanced by the Direwolf.

Otto shook his head and pushed himself off the wall. His senses of sight and smell were already fading away. Soon his hearing would return to normal as well. However, he was still able to detect Joseph humming outside and the _crunch_ of bone as Willam fed Argentum. Otto tugged his fur cloak around his neck before shouldering through an oaken door to join his friends.

Today, the Den was a ghost town. The customary mass of direwolves swarming about was nowhere to be seen, instead replaced by three humans and a young Tyrannosaurus Rex. The pack was off hunting, Otto knew. Winter had departed the previous night with all his strength in tow. Mammoth herds rarely travelled through Direwolf territory, but the shifting northern climate had forced a premature migration. Otto knew that a single mammoth could feed the pack for days on end. If the wolves managed to pick off an entire herd, they would be set for weeks. Such a rare opportunity would not be passed down, especially with the threat of fall looming closer every day.

Young and old, the Direwolves had flocked to their alpha's side. Even the pups were accompanying the pack, although they were simply along to watch and learn. The Den had been completely abandoned, save for Otto and his friends. He had no idea about when the wolves would return, but he assumed it would be tonight.

Until then, Otto and his friends could defend the Den themselves. Enemy attacks were extremely unlikely. Hardly any beasts trespassed on the pack's territory; the scent of nearly twenty wolves was more than enough to drive most creatures away. Even then, the Den was completely hidden and outsiders could only stumble upon it by chance. In the unlikely event that anything _did_ attack, Otto and Joseph had recovered enough to provide formidable resistance, and Argentum was the size of an average Direwolf by now. The two warriors and their resident Tyrannosaurus would be enough to make most creatures think twice about invading.

Joseph glanced up from his seat and acknowledged Otto with a nod. The large man returned to his previous task of sharpening his Sabertooth dagger, silently humming the whole time. Otto clapped his friend on the back before descending down a rocky slope to greet Willam and his pet. The old man waved when he saw Otto, while Argentum bounded over to nuzzle his chest in greeting. Otto grinned and stroked the young beast's scaly head. It was certainly easier now that Argentum stood at his shoulder. Incredibly, the Tyrannosaurus shared a height with his owner Willam.

When he was satisfied, Argentum thundered back to his master's side and nestled against the old man. Willam smiled and gestured at his pet. "He'll be looming over me before long."

"Any day now," Otto agreed with a smile of his own.

Argentum grew at an astonishing rate. It seemed like yesterday that the infant had hatched. In reality, it had been a month and a half ago. Even now, the beast was already large enough to be useful during hunts. It had only been a few weeks ago that the youngling graduated from eating prepared chunks of meat to freshly-killed prey. Argentum was a naturally born hunter and capable of taking down beasts his own size and smaller. He often struggled with larger prey, but the infant's friends were always nearby to help.

Argentum had not only grown physically, but mentally as well. The childish infant had matured to a certain extent. Presently, he was better at controlling his emotions and actions. Argentum's tantrums were becoming much less frequent, and he was getting along better with everybody as a result. Even the Direwolves began to accept him. . . at least enough to allow the infant into their home.

It had only been a week since Otto and his friends officially moved to the Den. Their living arrangements had been carefully prepared earlier, and certain measures had been taken to ensure a smooth transition into the new home. Otto's group had slowly but surely gotten the Direwolves accustomed to their presence through periodic visits.

Even Argentum was allowed in the Den after being introduced to the wolves one at a time. Previously, the pack had harassed Argentum simply because of his drastic physical differences that caused him to stick out. The quarreling had gotten so serious that Argentum had been isolated from the pack and kept at the Lookout Hill. However, small groups of Direwolves had been brought over at different intervals and introduced to Argentum on more equal terms. This greatly improved peaceful interactions between the infant and his former aggressors. Argentum was able to bond with the wolves individually, until the collective finally accepted him as an ally.

Getting the wolves to cooperate with Argentum was a vital step toward peaceful coexistence, but certainly not the only one; possessions had to be transported, boundaries established, and shelters constructed. It had been roughly a month since the wolves and humans first allied with one another after Winter's takeover of the pack. In that time, virtually every valuable item from the Lookout Hill had been brought over to the Den by sleigh. Otto and his friends had claimed a small portion of the Den as their own, and built a crude log cabin to live in.

The shelter resided on a cliff above the main clearing, where the Den itself was located. The cabin had taken roughly a week to construct. First, Otto and his friends had excavated a rectangular pit and filled the hole with gravel. Next, trees had been cut and dragged to the cliff, where they were transformed into planks and logs. The gravel foundation had been covered by a layer of wooden planks, and four logs had been jammed into the ground at every corner to provide the basic framework for the building. The remaining logs were trimmed and notched to fit together like puzzle pieces. This particular method eliminated the need for nails or adhesives to hold the entire building together. Afterward, walls had been constructed by interlocking logs at every corner. Finally, rows of sticks had been overlapped above the walls to make a mesh, and weaved with thatch to form a primitive roof. Fire-hardened clay tiles were smeared with mud and packed above the thatch to waterproof the entire structure.

In the end, Otto and his friends were left with a rectangular wooden lodge to call their own. It was roughly four meters long and six meters wide, large enough for all three humans to live comfortably. Two wooden doors had been constructed on either side of the cabin for easy accessibility. Argentum was still small enough to fit through the doorways, but just barely. A wooden overhang had been constructed outside for when he grew larger. Currently, the cabin interior was sparsely decorated. Three cots were packed along the floor, and there was a chair tucked away in the corner. A single wooden shelf stored some meagre possessions while the remaining items were clustered together on a table.

Otto admired the cabin. It was the closest thing to a home that he had known on the island. Even when the Direwolves were at the Den, the sturdy wooden walls made him feel safe and secure at night. Moreover, the structure kept its inhabitants warm and insulated during colder climate. It was true that the Den was located farther south than the Lookout Hill, but the temperature could still occasionally dip well below freezing. For the most part, the new human home was warmer and more secure than their previous base.

Otto and his friends had abandoned the Lookout Hill a week ago, and had not returned since then. However, as a precaution they had stored a handful of emergency supplies in the igloo. The Lookout Hill would serve as a secondary home, in case the Den should fall to enemy hands. The scenario was extremely unlikely, but Otto's time on the island had taught him to prepare for the worst.

A primal growl pierced the air, sharp and ravenous. Otto flinched for a moment, until he realized the noise was coming from himself. He had not eaten since the morning and his stomach was protesting for food. The wolf dream had only aggravated his starving body, with the broken promise of Mammoth flesh. Willam glanced over in alarm and Argentum stirred from his sleep. Even Joseph poked out from the cliff above, an arrow nocked to his bow. Otto smiled sheepishly as they noticed the source of the outburst.

Willam chuckled and Joseph laughed. Argentum gave him an irritated snarl before curling up and returning to his slumber. Otto shrugged apologetically. "It's been a long day and the sun's almost down. How does supper sound?"

"Supper sounds great," Joseph grinned.

Otto lurched to his feet and wandered off in search of food. Through a process of excavating and replacing rocks, the humans had created a ramp between the clearing and the cliff. Otto started up the ramp toward the cabin, where all the provisions were stocked. A deep pit had been excavated beside the lodge and covered by a wooden board to insulate the food inside. The ground below was frozen solid and excellent at keeping perishables refrigerated. Otto hauled the cover away and peered inside the frosty vault.

A large haunch of venison sat in the corner, flanked by two fine salmon and a few chunks of Ovis mutton. Argentum was especially fond of the meat, Otto knew. He extracted all the mutton before returning to his search. The other side yielded a bowl of frozen berries, some roots, and a handful of nuts. Otto snatched the bowl up in one hand and the venison in his other. He left the salmon untouched; he was growing sick of eating fish every day.

Joseph appeared to help with the mutton, and the friends descended down the ramp together. Willam already had the fire blazing by the time they reached the clearing. He had polished off some nearby rocks for the three friends to sit together. Argentum was still curled up in the corner but he awoke at the scent of frying mutton. The Tyrannosaurus immediately bounded over and sat by his master's side, happily gnawing on the meat.

The humans feasted on plates of venison fried with roots and forest nuts. While they ate, the berries were thawed and placed on the side as a sweet afterthought. Otto enjoyed his meal as Willam produced the _Dossier_ and began their nightly tradition.

"This behemoth towers over many creatures on the Island, and does not seem to fear anything," the old man intoned. "They generally thrive in colder areas, and have a herd mentality. They graze on plant life, and must spend much of their time travelling in search of food to sustain themselves."

"Mammoth," Otto answered immediately.

"Correct." Willam began flipping through the pages to find another creature.

The old man had practically memorized the _Dossier_ front and back. It was for the benefit of Otto and Joseph that they played this game, to educate the men about the Island's many inhabitants. It was much more engaging than spending hours hunched over the _Dossier_.

At that instant, Otto felt unexplainably unnerved by his surroundings. It was as if something cold and calculating was nearby, watching him, studying him. The feeling was gone an instant later, so quick it might have been his imagination. Otto shuddered and scanned the camp, but there were no movements aside from the crackling fire and the bushes shifting in the wind. Argentum was asleep again, slumbering in the corner. The beast had not sensed anything amiss, but that did little to reassure Otto. Before he could investigate further, Willam glanced up from his book with a new creature in mind.

"Found along the Island's many rivers and streams. Exceptionally adept at hunting fish and foraging for shiny treasures. They have become particularly cunning as a result of local competition for food and their diminutive size. They are distinguished by their elongated bodies, bushy tails, and webbed feet."

"Otter," Joseph began as the bushes rustled. Alarmed, all three humans whipped toward the noise as its source appeared.

A slim pale woman emerged from the undergrowth, silent as a shadow. She was pretty, there was no doubt. Silky waves of golden hair cascaded to her shoulders, framing a set of delicate features. Her deep blue eyes glimmered like sapphires, bright and dazzling. It had been a long time since Otto laid eyes upon a new human face, let alone a female one. The woman's sudden appearance caught him off guard. Otto was so distracted that he almost missed the dagger in her hands.

The woman was behind Willam in an instant, her blade tucked against his throat. She forcefully yanked the old man up, and dragged him a few steps away. The dagger never left his neck.

"You sure have a lot of knowledge," she smiled. "Too bad it won't help you now."

Joseph and Otto shot to their feet at once, their weapons in hand. The woman only pressed her dagger closer to Willam's throat, drawing a thin trickle of blood. The old man gasped for breath, his face flushed purple from the exertion. Argentum's eyes suddenly flared open and the Tyrannosaurus was up at once. Joseph pulled an arrow from his quiver, and Otto raised his own blade against the stranger.

"Let him go. You're one against three. Cut his throat and we'll return the favour. Release him, and we can forget this ever happened."

The woman cocked her head at Otto. "And why would I do that?"

"You're outnumbered," he retorted.

"Am I?" she grinned mischievously.

It was at that moment when Otto noticed the bone spearhead poking out from the bushes, the tip levelled at his chest. Another rustle of the bushes caught his eye, this one closer to Joseph. He cursed. Two more attackers were hidden in the undergrowth, their weapons poised to kill. The woman twisted Willam's wispy hair, eliciting a strangled gasp from the old man. Argentum snarled and prepared to attack, but Willam waved his pet away.

"Stand down," he managed to choke out. Argentum warily withdrew a few steps, though his ferocious eyes never left the intruder.

"Finally, someone with a thimble of sense." The woman turned to Otto and Joseph expectantly. "You'll drop your weapons, or die with them in hand."

Reluctantly, they complied. _There's no other choice_ , Otto reflected as he threw his Sabertooth dagger to the ground. It bounced once and skidded to a halt, its tip pointing at the woman. "We're unarmed. What do you want from us?"

The woman chuckled. "Seems to me the captor should be asking questions. You'll keep your mouths shut, unless you want my friends to skewer you alive."

Otto grimaced, but said nothing. This was a dangerous woman and he did not want to push his luck. She gestured at Otto and Joseph. "You'll restrain that lizard to a rock. The first sign of treachery, and your friend dies."

Defeated, Otto shuffled over to Argentum and gently pulled him toward the cabin. The young Tyrannosaurus strained and snarled, but eventually allowed himself to be led away. Joseph disappeared inside the lodge for a few moments and emerged with a leather harness. He looped it around the Tyrannosaurus and secured the other end to a boulder. As soon as Otto released his grip on Argentum, the infant charged toward Willam. The harness held firm, and pulled the beast back before he could get anywhere close.

The intruder was satisfied with the result. She turned to the humans. "Down on your knees, and hands above your heads."

Otto did as he was told, and sank to the ground. He risked a glance at the bushes and found the spear still trained on him. Suddenly, Otto was acutely aware of every shift and sway of the leaves, every movement that could indicate his demise. The wind rattled against bony branches, stirring the great bushy mound like a storm-heaved sea. Every pigment of green became amplified a thousand times over. The sharp stench of sweat clouded the undergrowth, revealing the location of the hidden assailants. The enemies were close, and getting closer. He could almost taste the scent of man upon his jaws. . .

Understanding dawned on Otto.

"What do you want from us?" he blurted out, stalling for time. Instead of reprimanding him, the woman simply frowned.

"Your weapons and tools, for one. Your home and hearth. Your food and water. You'll hand it all over, if you value your lives."

Otto glared at the intruder. "We would have sheltered you all the same. Feasted you from our own cellars. There was no need for this," he gestured around at the tense stand-off.

"That's where you're wrong. Never trust anyone but yourself, that's what this damned island has taught me."

"No one but yourself? Pray tell me, who are those two in the bushes back there?" Otto's gaze never left the woman, but he saw the spear-wielder shift uncomfortably.

"Worthy friends, true and loyal."

"So you decide who's trustworthy and who isn't?"

"You'll keep quiet, or be silenced forever." The spear shifted again, aimed at Otto's head. He risked the woman's wrath.

"We were no threat to you. Two injured warriors, barely recovered from the last assault on our camp. An elderly man, who's never hurt anyone in his life. And a hatchling, not yet two months old. You had no reason to attack."

The woman scowled. "That's it, you bloody fool. I've had enough of your insolence."

She kicked Willam to the ground and advanced toward Otto with her dagger raised high. The blade flashed red and orange in the glare of dusk. Otto remained perfectly still as his attacker advanced. If he tried to escape he would undoubtedly suffer a gruesome end. The hidden attackers would easily skewer him with their spears if he ran, leaving him to a long and bloody demise. So instead, Otto stared death down with his chin held high. There was no hope left for him, but perhaps he could buy some time for his friends. Either way, he would not give this woman the pleasure of hearing him scream or beg for mercy. Otto would die with dignity.

The woman was right in front of him now, her blade in hand. She glared down at him, scowling. Otto returned her gaze without flinching. The dagger flashed upward, level with his throat. Otto closed his eyes and waited for the blade that never came.

Instead, it was followed by a muffled gasp and a few hasty steps backward. Otto's eyes flared open. There was a great white shadow crouching protectively by his side. The woman had stumbled away in shock, her dagger lowered apprehensively. For the first time, Otto saw fear in her large blue eyes.

The wolves appeared without a sound. They slid from the bushes and leapt from the ledge. They sniffed and circled around the intruder, their bloodthirsty eyes never leaving her face. More beasts were hidden in the undergrowth, but they made their presence clear by rustling the leaves and shaking the branches. Otto could hear the sound of spears clattering to the ground as the woman's companions lost their courage.

Otto stood with a smile and brushed the dirt off his clothes. He placed a hand on Winter for support. The Direwolf's glare never left the woman. Winter growled, deep and menacing. All around the clearing, the pack took up the cry.

Otto grinned at the woman. "It seems the tides have turned." He gestured at her dagger. "I would drop that if I were you."

The blade quickly found itself abandoned on the ground. Otto glanced at the undergrowth, where the woman's companions were concealed. He could sense their fear.

"Show yourselves," he demanded.

A tall scrawny man stumbled into the clearing, his spear abandoned to the shrubs. He was pale and unshaven, with an unkempt beard and thick brown hair. Although he was of a height with Otto, his skinny frame and slouched posture made him seem much smaller. The man's awkward stance gave the impression that he was trying to hide.

Otto scowled impatiently. "And the other one?"

The man and woman exchanged a hesitant look. Finally, the female gave a slight nod to her companion. The man whistled, sharp and shrill. A moment later, a scruffy otter bounded out of the bushes. It immediately bolted toward the man and clambered up his body. The beast curled around his neck, trembling anxiously and eyeing the nearby Direwolves.

"Clever trick. You had me fooled." Otto nodded toward the small mammal, which he had mistaken for another human. Hidden in the undergrowth, it had been impossible to tell.

Otto gestured for his friends. Joseph and Willam had already gotten to their feet and now glared at the intruders contemptuously. At Otto's signal, they each departed to complete their own tasks; Willam knelt by the rocks to untie Argentum, while Joseph retrieved their weapons. When he was free, Argentum immediately charged at the unwary woman, his eyes blazing. It took Otto and Willam together to haul the enraged infant off. Even after he was removed, Argentum kept snarling at the intruder who had harmed his master.

Joseph appeared by Otto's side and offered him his dagger, hilt first. Otto accepted the blade and sheathed it in his belt. He turned to his friend. "Bind their hands and take their weapons. I'm not taking any risks with these two."

"Just their hands? What if they run?"

Winter appeared at Otto's side. He stroked the Direwolf's shaggy mane. "They won't get far."

Defeated and dismayed, the captives complied without a struggle. By now, most of the Direwolves had dispersed around the camp and returned to their own affairs. However, Otto did not doubt their predatorial capabilities. They could easily kill the prisoners within a moment's notice. The two intruders were perfectly aware of that fact as well. They caused no trouble as Joseph tied their wrists and shoved them down by the fire.

Otto glanced at the unusual pair curiously; one small but headstrong, the other large and weak-willed. The woman caught his eye and Otto inclined his head. "By the way, I never recieved your names."

"Don't have much of a choice, now do I?" She laughed bitterly. "Alysanne, if you must know."

Otto turned toward the man, who immediately averted his gaze and found interest in his feet. "Daven," he mumbled.

"And your pet?"

The man seemed to have forgotten about the otter curled around his neck. "Patches. Because of his fur. The otter. His fur. It's all torn. . ."

Otto brushed a rock off and sat down by the fire. "Otto Weiss. I would say it was a pleasure to meet you, but that would be a lie." He leaned in closer. "Now I'm still not sure why you attacked us, but I'll find out by the end of tonight. You'll live or die by your answers."

Winter stalked up to Otto and settled down against his master's side. The great white beast growled at the intruders, causing Daven to flinch away and Alysanne to shift uncomfortably. Patches buried himself in his owner's neck, trembling violently.

Otto unsheathed his dagger and studied the blade, turning it over in his hands. "We've got a long night ahead of us. So, who wants to share first?"

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **New human characters! Hope you guys enjoy the newest POV character! Next chapter will be from Alysanne's perspective.**

 **Friday Knight, Glad you enjoyed the last chapter!**

 **Khisanth-91, Thank you! Sorry for the red herring! Poor baby indeed :(**

 **The Dweeb 4252, You got your wish!**

 **King Endercreeper, Thanks for the continued support! As you will notice, the chapters do shift back into the mianstream human perspective. The last chapter was mainly to introduce the wolves. Also, I'll try my best to update more frequently!**

 **Blueberrium, No problem! Thanks for suggesting them! Also, let's cross our fingers for Joseph!**

 **tacocatiam, Thanks for the support! :)**

 **ImmortalGlare, The parent will never turn up, but we may definitely see more signs of her existence!**

 **Guest, Thanks! I hope you enjoyed it!**

 **DireProphet, You're 100% correct!**

 **Dragongirl345, Sorry you're too late! The twins have already been named. There will always be other opportunities though, so keep your eyes peeled for new updates!**

 **ARES-35, Essentially, yes! He's growing fast though.**

 **enterelysium, The next chapter comes out today! Thanks for the support!**

 **Thanks for taking the time to check out my first fanfiction, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I will try my best to upload as regularly as possible. Feel free to comment, ask question or criticize my story, review is always welcome. And i** **f you like what you saw, make sure to check out the other ARK: Survival Evolved fanfictions out there. Have a great rest of your day or night.**

 **-DaRumpyBurr**


	16. Alysanne I

**Alysanne I**

* * *

The fire crackled and sputtered, throwing red-orange shadows all around the clearing. Dozens of great grey wolves prowled about, carefully avoiding the ring of firelight. Though Alysanne could not see them properly, she sensed their ominous presence. Their bloodthirsty eyes. Their hungry jaws. She shuddered and tried to ignore the beasts.

But try as she might, Alys could not avoid the massive white wolf crouched a few feet away. _Winter, this one's called._ Leader of the wolf pack, just as his master was the leader of the human one. Alys glanced at Otto Weiss, mainly to avoid his wolf's intense golden glare.

The man was tall and tan, his frame lean yet well-muscled. Otto's face was clean-shaven, but there was something wild and rugged about the way he looked. _It's his eyes,_ Alys realized. _Dark and grey, like a storm. . . those are dangerous eyes._ Alysanne could feel the hostility radiating from her captor's spiteful glare. Otto's companions were not much better. Joseph, the large black man, loomed ominously in the background, never speaking. The dark giant was large enough to snap her neck with one hand. Even then, Alys preferred his silent scorn over Willam's open hatred. The old man kept glancing at her disdainfully, one wrinkled palm resting upon his pet's scaly head. _I'm sorry,_ Alys wanted to say. She tried to catch his eye, but Willam always turned away whenever she looked at him. However, the old man's pet was more than eager to answer in his stead. The grey lizard growled and snarled whenever she glanced in his direction.

 _When did I make so many enemies?_ Alysanne stared around the camp despondently. It had never been her intention to harm the old man, only to use him as leverage against the others. Nor had she meant to lose her anger and attack Otto, but that could not be helped. The man had infuriated her with his impudent remarks and sharp words. Alys sighed. The arrival of the wolves had turned the tides in an instant. Now she found herself a prisoner once again. Alys shook her head to clear the memories away. _Let the past stay in the past. Deal with the present and stay strong. If not for yourself, then for Lucy. . ._

Otto cleared his throat impatiently. "I asked you a question. For your sakes, I hope you intend on answering it. I won't ask again."

Otto left the question unspoken, but it was on her mind nonetheless. _Why did you attack us?_ Alysanne stared down at her hands, bound together by a length of sturdy twine. _Remember what they did to Lucy. Remember what happened. . ._

She glanced sideways at Daven, but there was no help to be found. The man seemed to be looking everywhere but at Otto. Alys sighed at her only friend. He was no good with words, and she could not depend on him to help her now. What she said in the next few minutes would decide both their fates. Her words would mean the difference between life and death. _The right words._ Alys took a deep breath and began.

"You wanted to know why we did it and you'll get your answers. But first hear me out and I'll tell you everything that happened to me after I washed up on this accursed island."

Alysanne recalled her very first day. The details had been scorched into her mind and they came back naturally. Alys launched into her tale as if she had recited it a hundred times before.

* * *

Her very first memory was waking up on a smoky beach, with flakes of ash billowing overhead. Great grey clouds blotted out the sun, cloaking the world in darkness. Storm-heaved waves churned against a craggy cliffside, sending up mighty plumes of saltwater with every crash.

Alysanne rolled onto her back, grateful that she had been deposited onto the soft white beach rather than the jagged cliffside. She groaned and sat up. Soggy strands of seaweed clung to her dishevelled blonde hair, and her entire body was coated with brine. She did her best to untangle the errant clumps of slimy weeds while taking in her surroundings. The coast seemed more battlefield than beachfront. Charred trees and piles of ash bordered the shore, the only remains of a mighty fire. A few stubborn strands of smoke still snaked their way into the heavens. Hundreds of animal tracks had been trampled into the sand, while bones and bodies had been littered haphazardly throughout.

 _What happened here?_ Alys stood up, swaying on her feet. She got her answer soon enough. A ragged herd of duck-billed lizards carefully picked their way along the shore. The beasts were wide-eyed and visibly distraught, snorting and bellowing as they trampled along the coast. Heavy black clouds of smoke stalked the lizards, creeping ominously across the sky behind them. _They're fleeing from a fire_ , she realized. _But not just the flames alone. . ._

Alys saw signs of combat everywhere. Pools of dried blood and piles of bones were heaped all along the shore. There had been predators amongst the prey. Alysanne glanced around nervously, but she could not see any carnivores lurking nearby. _That doesn't mean they're gone_. In the end, she decided it was best to follow the large crested lizards. They seemed harmless enough, and if the group was attacked Alys figured the beasts would present meatier targets than herself.

She counted a dozen duck-billed lizards, both young and old. Some of them eyed Alys wearily as she joined their ranks, but otherwise ignored her. The beasts plodded forward indifferently, unfazed by her presence. Alys travelled with them for a few minutes before curiosity got the better of her. She strayed from the herd to inspect some of the corpses heaped beside the ocean. One of them looked strangely pale. Alys suddenly realized the body belonged to a man. She cautiously crept closer, ready to dart away at any moment.

The man was tall and skinny, with thick brown hair. Alys wouldn't have called him handsome, but he was not hard to look upon either. The castaway wore nothing but a simple loincloth. His skin was pale as milk, suggesting that he had not been in the sun for long. Alys was studying his scrawny frame when he suddenly coughed and sat up.

She immediately vaulted backward and grabbed the closest object she could find; a thick driftwood branch shaped like a cudgel. The man was blinking around in surprise, taking in his surroundings. Their eyes met. Alys immediately clubbed the man on the side of his head and darted away before he had time to react.

The man clutched his reddened cheek, his eyes white with fear. "Y-you _hit_ me!"

"And I'll hit you _again_ if you try anything," she scowled. "What are you doing here?"

The man suddenly seemed very confused. He began to take his surroundings in, as if he had just realized where he was. "I'm lost," he said, incredulous.

Alys rolled her eyes, but did not lower her guard. She was about to reply when a chorus of snarls pierced the air.

The duckbill herd reared up with snorts of alarm as three scarlet lizards sprang out from the jungle. The newcomers were much smaller than the duckbills, but more lean and muscular with rows of sharp teeth lining their deadly jaws. The predators had bright feathers adorning their heads, forearms, backs, and tails. The largest of the trio gave a sharp shriek, and its packmates veered off after the herd.

The duckbills immediately thundered down the beach, their huge hindquarters jostling as they fled from the predators. One of the oldest herbivores began lagging behind the others due to a limp. The three carnivores were quick to notice its weakness. With bloodthirsty snarls, the beasts descended upon the elderly duckbill and began harassing it from every side.

One of the carnivores leapt onto the duckbill's back and slashed its thick neck while another appeared by its flank, claws gleaming. The third followed close behind, snarling and snapping at the herbivore's exposed hindquarters. Miraculously, the duckbill still managed to escape. Bucking its head back, the great lizard dislodged the monster upon its back and the carnivore careened into the ground. The herbivore swung its huge tail and with a mighty _crack,_ another lizard was sprawling in the sand. Seeing its packmates defeated and disoriented, the last predator withdrew from the chase with a frustrated growl. It regrouped with its companions, and the three beasts watched the herd escape.

Alys noticed how scrawny the predators were compared to their prey. It was hard to tell from a distance, but she estimated that the carnivores came up to her chest. Their limbs seemed prone to snap at any moment, and their jaws were not completely proportional to their bodies. That, along with their disorganized hunting tactics led Alys to suspect they were not yet fully grown. The predators appeared to be young juveniles, recently matured and fresh from their parents' nest. Perhaps this had been their very first hunt in the wild. Alysanne was studying the largest of the trio, when it suddenly snapped its head to look her in the eyes.

Alys stumbled away as the other lizards noticed her presence, glaring at her like a cornered meal. She hastily tugged the man to his feet and shoved him toward the jungle. "Run!"

Alys could not say what compelled her to save the man. She could have just as easily left him behind to die, while she escaped unscathed. Yet in the end, Alys found herself sprinting into the jungle, dragging him by the hand.

The trees and shrubs swallowed them up, turning the world into a dark green haze. Roots and saplings kept tangling themselves around her ankles, while serpentine vines ensnared her arms and waist. Alysanne ripped the vegetation away, cursing. From the corner of her eye, she noticed her new companion was not faring much better. The man was evidently still disoriented from his abrupt awakening. He was stumbling around like a drunkard, and seemed to trip on every rock in the rainforest.

A harsh cacophony of snarls echoed through the forest from somewhere behind them. The predators had entered the jungle. Alys risked a glance over her shoulder, but could not see the monsters. She was only a few hundred feet away from the beach, yet it might as well have been a few thousand for all she could see. The dense vegetation concealed most of the coast. . . and the lizards as well.

A sudden flash of movement caught her eye. Alys glanced to the left, just in time to see a crimson shadow dart from one tree to the next. She cursed and quickened her pace, but it was no use. The monster was rapidly gaining ground on her, and she only had a few seconds before it overtook her completely.

An ear-splitting screech pierced the air from her other side, followed by a lean red spectre. Alysanne barely swerved away from the second beast and it went flying past her, claws outstretched. The lizard slammed into a dense tangle of vines and went down thrashing, ensnared by the vegetation. The monster attempted to free itself from the vines, kicking and slashing, but suddenly Alys was past it and she could only hear its desperate snarls echoing from behind.

There was no time to savour the small victory. From the corner of her eyes, Alys noticed the first lizard rapidly approaching from the left. The beast snarled at her and vaulted a dozen feet into the air. She was helpless to do anything but watch as its shadow sailed overhead. . . only to miss her completely. The monster careened into the ground a few feet ahead of her, shaking its head from the impact. The young juvenile had clearly overshot but Alys was grateful that it had missed. She darted past the vicious reptile before it had time to recover.

Alysanne's disheveled hair flew wildly about her shoulders. Her arms and legs were scratched from the bushes, and she had cut her feet on some jagged rocks during the chase. Her head was pounding like a drum and she could taste vomit at the back of her throat. Sweat ran down her forehead, searing her eyes. Alys blinked furiously, struggling to stay conscious.

"This way!" a voice called from somewhere up ahead.

Alys spotted the man waving at her madly. _When did he get so far ahead,_ she thought drowsily. She ran toward him, stumbling in her haste. He was standing between two massive boulders. The gap was barely large enough for a human to squeeze through, let alone their significantly larger assailants.

Alysanne was nearing the passage when pain flared up from the back of her shoulder. It felt as if she had been slashed by three white-hot knives. She whirled around and found herself face to face with the largest of the lizards. There was suddenly no time to think. Her hand was already moving before she had time to register the predator, her instincts taking over. Alys slammed her fist into the monster's face.

There was a mighty crack and wood splinters flew everywhere. Alys had completely forgotten about her driftwood cudgel. _Too late now_ , she thought as the club shattered upon impact. Her attacker went reeling away, more startled than anything else. Alys took advantage of the beast's confusion and squeezed into the narrow crack.

"We won't be s-safe here," someone muttered.

Alys nodded but did not comprehend what the man was saying. She leaned against the stone, breathing heavily. She must have stayed in that position for a few minutes, but it felt as if she had only rested for a few seconds before her companion tugged at her arm timidly.

It took all her willpower to push herself off the stone ledge. Alys was still fighting to regain her breath when she heard a harsh cacophony of snarling and scraping. The click of claws on stone meant the beasts had vaulted above her shelter. The only thing separating her from the monsters was a small cluster of boulders, and Alys suspected that the obstacle would not deter them for long. The thought of the monsters shredding her apart was enough to get her up again. Alys took a deep breath and launched herself from the stone cranny.

She plunged deeper into the heart of the jungle, before her assailants even realized she was gone. A fleeting glance revealed that all three predators had regrouped by the stones. They were too preoccupied trying to get between the boulders to notice her absence. Alys exhaled in relief and followed her companion.

She had only been running for a minute when an enraged screech echoed through the jungle. A series of muffled thuds against the forest floor alerted her that the monsters were in pursuit. Alys was already exhausted again, despite her brief respite from the beasts. She was moments away from collapsing in defeat when she heard a voice from far ahead.

"Here! Up here! In the tree!"

 _Another woman's voice_ , Alys had time to think. _No, not a woman. . . a girl._ She was too distracted running for her life to be shocked by the revelation. By that point, her body was functioning on pure adrenaline. The man had already reached a great mossy tree and was pulling himself up toward the canopy. Alys threw herself at the trunk and followed him with all the strength she could muster.

She was a dozen feet above the ground when the three predators burst into the clearing. They sniffed and scratched around the trunk, turning over stones and shrubs. The alpha suddenly realized her location and snapped its head straight up. The beast crouched down low and glared at Alys with bloodthirsty eyes.

Without warning, the monster lunged into the air, claws outstretched. Alys lashed out with her foot and made contact with something rough and scaly. The lizard screeched in pain and went down thrashing. By then, the other predators had noticed her as well. They were preparing to attack when a heavy projectile took one full in the face.

The other lizard growled in alarm and scurried over to its injured packmate. The wounded beast snarled and shook its head before lurching to its feet. No sooner had it sprang up than another lump slammed into its eyes, accompanied by an ear-splitting shriek from what sounded like a monkey. The brown projectile burst apart and smeared the monster's eyes. Alys took the momentary distraction as an opportunity to escape.

The alpha had recovered from its descent and now charged at the tree, its packmates close behind. The lizards vaulted onto the tree and scrambled for purchase against the branches and rough bark. They were bombarded by a volley of stones and feces the whole time. Both of the smaller monsters lost their footing and tumbled to the ground, but the alpha persisted relentlessly.

With the last of her remaining strength, Alys pulled herself onto a crude wooden platform. She rolled over in exhaustion, panting heavily. The world was a blur, but she vaguely noticed a handful of other occupants in the tree with her. She was suddenly jolted from her thoughts by a loud snarl and a sickled claw landing right next to her head. Alysanne didn't have any energy left to fight back. She sighed in defeat and stared at the monster calmly. The alpha snarled with glee and raised a talon to crush her head.

A sudden blur slammed into the monster's chest and sent it stumbling backward. One of the beast's talons found nothing but empty air. The lizard clawed helplessly at the platform, struggling to regain its position. A nimble figure darted over to the predator and slammed a makeshift spear into its flank. The monster gave one final screech of fury before plummeting to the ground dozens of feet below.

Alys eyed the figure warily as she gasped for breath. Her saviour turned around and glanced at her with a concerned expression. It took Alys a few seconds to realize her salvation came in the form of a tiny girl.

 _She can't be more than nine or ten._ "You're just a child!" Alysanne blurted out.

The little girl ignored her remark and leaned down to inspect her more closely. "The raptors got your shoulder. I'll need to bandage it up."

Alys had forgotten about her wound but the pain suddenly came rushing back. She gritted her teeth as a fresh wave of agony lanced through her shoulder. Her head was pounding and it took her a few moments to comprehend what the child was saying. "Raptors? You mean those. . . _things?"_

The girl only blinked at her. "You're new, aren't you?"

Alys nodded slowly. The slight movement made black spots dance across her vision. "I washed up. . . a few hours. . . ago." Every word took considerable effort for her to enunciate.

"Just relax." The girl bent down and eased a soft clump of leaves under Alysanne's head.

A small furry beast scampered up the child's arm and perched upon her shoulder. It was a monkey, Alys realized. The girl smiled at the creature. "Patches, I need your help. Can you grab some moss for me?" She pointed at a branch far above the platform.

The monkey hooted in excitement, bobbing its head up and down. The girl smiled and extended her arm toward the tree. A silver blur launched itself onto the bark and began climbing up the trunk.

"It can understand you?" Alys was amazed.

"Of course he can. Patches is very smart." A handful of twigs rained down upon the girl's head. She giggled in amusement. "Well, sometimes he needs a little help. The moss, Patches. It's over there!"

A large clump of moss landed by her feet. The girl laughed and held her hands up to catch her pet. Patches was in her arms an instant later. The monkey hooted and clambered onto the child's head, clearly pleased with itself.

The girl scrutinized Alysanne's shoulder and made a disapproving sound. "The wound is deep. Luckily, I saved some of these."

She produced a handful of round berries, dark as pitch. They had a strange odour. A faint whiff almost made Alys faint. She recoiled in disgust as the child stuffed them into a bowl and began crushing them with a stone. A thick green juice erupted from the berries when they were squashed. The girl stirred the mixture absentmindedly, humming to herself as she worked. By the end, she held a bowl filled with a sickly green paste.

Alysanne was beginning to have second thoughts about her predicament when the girl came over with the bowl. Before Alys could protest, the child was smearing the paste all over her shoulder. She suppressed a scream as a burning sensation spread throughout her body. As suddenly as it came, it was gone and Alys was left completely numb. Her eyelids suddenly felt very heavy. Darkness was slowly oozing across her vision.

"What. . . did you. . ." she began.

"Narcotics. Don't worry, you'll feel better later. Sleep tight!"

The last thing Alys saw was the girl beaming down at her cheerfully. Then her world was engulfed in darkness.

* * *

When she awoke hours later, the pain from her shoulder was nothing but a dull memory. Alysanne lay on her side, breathing heavily. She groaned and sat up after a few moments. For an instant, she didn't know where she was. Suddenly, the events of the past few hours came crashing down on her.

"Oh good, you're awake."

Alys turned to look at the young girl, who beamed back at her with a warm expression. Patches was perched on the child's shoulder, playing with her dark hair. Alys noticed another person sitting across from the child. It was the man from the beach, she realized. Between the raptors and her wound, Alysanne had completely forgotten about him. The man gaped at her awkwardly, before sheepishly averting his gaze.

"Nice to see you again," Alys said in way of greeting.

The man's cheeks flushed red. "N-nice to see you too. Awake I mean. You were asleep. I saw you. Sleeping. . ."

Alys shifted uncomfortably. "Alright then."

Luckily, the girl was there to break the awkward silence. "How's your shoulder doing?"

"Almost as good as new," Alys replied, grateful for the child's interruption. She smiled and took a seat near the others. "So, what were you just talking about?"

"I was telling Daven about the Island. Now that you're awake, I can teach you as well! You both have a lot to learn," she giggled. "Oh! I still don't know your name."

"Alysanne. Call me Alys. What's your name?"

"Lucy," the girl replied.

Alys shook her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you Lucy. I owe you my life. Without your help, those beasts surely would have gotten me."

Lucy grinned back at her. "I'm just happy you're alright! Those nasty raptors are always causing trouble."

A vision of the monsters flashed through Alysanne's mind. She shivered and crawled to the edge of the platform, but the only signs of the reptiles were some tracks in the mud.

"They gave up and left a few hours ago," Lucy explained.

Alys exhaled in relief. "Will they come back?"

Lucy shook her head. "They're probably hunting something else by now. The raptors never stay in one place for long."

Alys glanced at the child curiously. "You sure know a lot about them."

"Yup! I learn from talking with other people. And I learn new things on my own everyday."

A creeping suspicion dawned on Alys. "How long have you been here?"

"At least a few months," the girl said to Alysanne's surprise.

They talked well into the night, discussing their experiences on the Island. After a few hours, Alys was able to piece together Lucy's story. She had woken up alone on the beach a few months ago. After a relatively peaceful first day of exploring the coast, she had encountered a troop of monkeys near the beach. The small mammals tolerated her presence, and Lucy spent a few days following them. By observing the resourceful creatures, she learned how to climb trees and forage for nuts and berries in the foliage. Lucy slept in the canopy by night and explored her surroundings by day.

The monkeys were gone a week later. Lucy had awoken during the night to the sounds of shrieks and snarls echoing through the canopy. She couldn't tell what was happening, but it appeared the monkeys were being attacked by _something._

All the monkeys were gone by the time the sun came up. A quick survey of the perimeter revealed claw marks all over the trees. Lucy concluded that they must have come from some arboreal predator that had attacked the mammals during the night. Fortunately, it appeared the entire troop had escaped into the jungle. . . at least that was her initial thought.

Lucy was examining the forest floor when some movement caught her eye. It was an injured monkey with a few ragged claw marks across its chest. When Lucy got closer, she noticed it was surprisingly small. The tiny creature couldn't have been more than a few months old. Pitying the beast, Lucy had taken it with her and nursed it back to health. During that time, the young monkey quickly imprinted on her. Even when it was fully recovered, the beast refused to leave her side. Lucy named it Patches due to its mangled coat, and the two had been inseparable ever since.

After befriending the young monkey, Lucy remained in the canopy for the rest of her time on the Island. She spent the days gathering resources, foraging for food, and improving her treehouse. Occasionally she would journey out to the beachfront or deeper into the jungle to meet with some friendly survivors at their camps. However, it had been a few weeks since her last round of visits and Lucy was unsure whether the other humans had moved or not. Many groups preferred to remain nomadic and live off the land, rather than establish a permanent camp.

Alys listened with fascination as the young girl educated her about the Island. She noticed Daven listening as well, though eventually the man got tired and found a corner to sleep in. All too soon, Alys found her own eyelids growing heavy and before long she was settling down for the night as well. Alys was taken by surprise when Lucy curled up against her. The young girl was asleep in a heartbeat. Alys enjoyed the comfort of having a warm body beside her. It helped her feel less lonely in the foreign world. She went to sleep that night with a smile on her face.

Alys woke to the sight of a heaving green sea. Jades and emeralds shifted and swayed above her head. A pleasant breeze sifted through her hair, while pale shafts of sunlight pierced through the canopy from above. Alys closed her eyes and remained perfectly still, carefully preserving the brief moment of peace. It didn't last long.

Patches catapulted onto her and began shrieking in her ear. Alys tried to swat the monkey away, but the beast was too nimble. She heard giggling from somewhere nearby. Groaning, Alys sat up and was greeted by the sight of Lucy. The young girl smiled at her cheerfully. "Finally awake, sleepyhead?"

Alys smiled back. "Unfortunately. What are you doing up so early?"

Lucy grinned. "The sun came up hours ago, silly. Besides, I always wake up this early. Don't worry your friend's not up either."

Alys glanced at Daven, who was snoring quietly in the corner. He was twitching occasionally, lost in some nightmare. Alys turned back to Lucy. "He's not my friend. . . I just met him on the beach. That's all."

"He said you saved him from the raptors. And he wouldn't leave your side while you were unconscious yesterday either."

Alys blushed. "Oh. . ."

"Let's go wake him up, Patches!"

Before Alys could stop them, the girl and monkey were shaking Daven from his sleep. He woke with a start and sat up. When he noticed the two figures looming above him, he instinctively flinched away and fell flat on his back. Even Alys couldn't help but smile at his sheepish expression.

Lucy was as cheerful as ever. "Now that you're both awake, we can eat. I already gathered food for everyone. Usually it's just me and Patches, but since you two showed up I had to grab a lot more."

The young girl shoved a wooden bowl into Alysanne's hands, grinning enthusiastically. It contained a diverse assortment of nuts, roots, and berries. Alys hadn't eaten since waking up yesterday. She wolfed the meal down and asked for a second helping when it was gone. The forest mixture tasted surprisingly good, although just about anything would have tasted fine to her.

When she and Daven were finished eating, Lucy cheerfully pushed them toward the edge of the platform. Alys was already used to living in the treehouse and was reluctant to leave its safety. "Where are we going?"

"I'm taking both of you to a small group nearby. The last time I visited, they told me they wanted more people around."

"Hang on, why can't we stay with you?"

"I just thought it would be better for you to meet them first. If you don't like them, you can always come back."

Alys nodded. "That sounds reasonable."

She was halfway down the tree when memories of the raptor attack flashed through her mind. "Wait, what about those beasts from yesterday?"

"We'll be fine," Lucy called down assuringly.

Alys was doubtful, but she trusted the child. She finished climbing down the tree and landed on the ground. Swiveling around apprehensively, she could not discern any immediate threats in the surroundings. Alys didn't lower her guard. She picked up a nearby club. Feeling the weight in her hands reassured her a bit, but not much. Alys remembered how her driftwood cudgel had shattered uselessly during the pursuit yesterday. She shuddered and turned toward Lucy as the child jumped to the forest floor.

The young girl led them through the jungle flawlessly. She seemed to know every rock and tree like the back of her hand. Lucy chattered about the other humans during the entire trip. "You'll like Albert. He taught me a lot about the plants and he helped me get better when I was sick once. . ."

They emerged near a river and followed it upstream. Alys spied dozens of strange beasts drinking from the water and frolicking about the shore. There were long-necked titans that towered as high as the tallest trees and three-horned lizards that snorted trampled plants underfoot.

"Those are triceratops. They might look all mean and spiky but they won't hurt you unless you get too close." Lucy craned her neck up to point at the titans. "Those are brontos. They're friendly as well, but you should stay far away. They might crush you without noticing."

Alys nodded and listened intently as the child described various other creatures near the river. She was amazed at how much the young girl knew.

They arrived at a clearing a few hours later. There was nothing but rubble left. Lucy frowned and tried calling out names, but nobody replied. Alys sifted through the ruins and uncovered various objects. A stone bowl. A stash of plants. A fire-hardened spear. And a human corpse.

The body was mostly rotten, but enough remained for Lucy to identify it when she came over. Tears welled up in her eyes. "That's Albert. He was always kind to me." She turned away from the corpse and trudged away silently.

Daven scrutinized the body carefully. He kicked away the dirt from on top. The debris cascaded away to reveal a handful of arrows lodged in the body. Daven gasped and backed away. "This w-wasn't the work of any b-beast."

Alys shook her head. "You're wrong, it was the worst beast of all. Man."

A few more minutes of sifting through the rubble revealed nothing useful. The other inhabitants had either fled or been captured by the raiders. When the entire camp had been searched, Alys decided it was time to leave. The journey home was much more somber than the one to the camp. Even Lucy hardly spoke and she was _always_ full of things to say. Alys tried to initiate a few conversations with the girl, all of which ended as abruptly as they started. When they returned, Lucy seemed to come back to life a bit. "I'm sorry for wasting your time. I didn't know they were all _gone_. . ."

"You couldn't have known," Alys assured her.

Lucy didn't seem to hear. "The closest camps were also abandoned the last time I checked. I don't know if the people moved or if they're gone too. . ."

"I'm sure they just relocated. We'll be able to find them," Alys declared.

Lucy shook her head. "You two can live with me."

"You've already done enough for us. We won't trouble you any further."

"But I want you and Daven to stay with me. Besides, it gets lonely at the treehouse and you can help me around the camp."

"Well. . . if you insist," Alys reluctantly complied. That seemed to cheer the girl up. Lucy beamed at her and Alys managed to smile back.

Alysanne fell into a pattern as the days flew by. She would wake up at the crack of dawn, break her fast with the others, journey into the forest to hunt and forage, return for lunch, gather resources for the following day, and finally rest at dawn. Alys spent her free time napping, playing with Patches, and talking with Lucy. Her days were gruelling but there were certain times when Alys got to relax and forget about her troubles. She especially enjoyed searching for marine life in tidepools with Lucy, or harvesting fresh coconuts with Patches' help. The beach was a soothing place and Alys visited it regularly.

The days blurred into weeks. Alys discovered more about herself all the time. It did not take long for her to realize she was an exceptional hunter. Alys didn't hit very hard, but she was _fast._ She could rapidly dish out damage while evading enemy attacks at the same time. Her speed allowed her to compete with many of the jungle's inhabitants. Alysanne's friends never lacked for meat when it came time to eat. Patches and Daven gorged themselves just fine but curiously, Lucy shunned meat all together; Alys noticed that she only ate fruits and vegetables. When asked, the girl explained it made her feel guilty to eat animals.

Alys sometimes forgot Lucy was still just a child. The girl was only ten, but she acted as mature as any adult. The only time Lucy behaved like a child was in the face of violence. Alysanne made sure to shield the girl from the horrors of the Island as best as she could. She found herself growing closer to Lucy every day. The child was funny, helpful, and wise beyond her years. Daven mostly stayed to himself, but he was always friendly enough and cooperative whenever something was asked of him. Alys found herself enjoying the company of her friends and her life on the Island. Everything was going well until it all changed one fateful morning.

Alys knew something was wrong when Lucy returned home without Patches. Her return was normally heralded by the monkey's hooting, but Patches was nowhere to be seen. Alys rushed to the forest floor after she noticed the mammal's ominous absence.

"Lucy what's wrong? Where's Patches?"

Alysanne was shocked to see how pale the child had grown. Lucy looked as if she had seen a ghost. Her eyes were red from crying and her dark hair was tangled in messy clumps. The child hobbled toward the treehouse, favouring her left leg. Lucy looked like she was on the verge of collapse. Alys rushed to catch the young girl and she began sobbing into her chest.

"What happened?" Alys asked in alarm.

That was when she noticed the blood. Her eyes followed the crimson trail snaking along the forest floor. . . and ended up at Lucy's ankle. Alys gasped in alarm. A long wooden shaft was lodged in the girl's calf. The rusty arrowhead poked out from the front of her leg. Alys winced simply from looking at the wound. She couldn't imagine the pain Lucy was in. The girl's sobbing had died down, but she was still trembling like a frightened animal. Alys tried her best to soothe the child.

"It's alright, everything will be fine. We just need to get you to safety."

Alys hoisted Lucy onto her back and the child wrapped her arms around her neck. Being careful not to jolt the fragile girl too much, Alys climbed to the top of the treehouse. She deposited Lucy onto the wooden platform and woke Daven with an urgent shout. He immediately rushed over to help when he saw the injured child. Alys rummaged through their supplies for medical herbs and together with Daven, she began treating Lucy's wounds.

Lucy managed to recite small fragments of her story while they worked. "There were three men in the forest. . ." she began. "They were doing. . . something to a triceratops. They had nets and. . . and spears."

Lucy took a moment to catch her breath. "They knocked it to the ground. . . and that's when they saw me."

Alys gently probed the girl's wound, only to elicit a gasp of pain. The arrow would remain in place for now. "One of them had a black beard. He said. . . he said they would take me. They were going to make me a. . . a 'gift' for their leader."

Alys felt sick to her stomach. She applied applied some healing herbs around Lucy's injury and urged the girl to continue. "I ran away as fast as I could. . . but they shot me and I fell. They would have caught me but. . . but Patches." Her voice cracked. "Patches stayed behind to hold them off. He saved me. . . but he's gone. . . _gone forever_."

Lucy began sobbing again. Alys tried her best to comfort the young girl. She suddenly remembered the narcotics and slipped a few into the child's mouth. Lucy suddenly clasped Alysanne's arm, her eyes white with fear. "Please Alys, I don't want to go. . . It hurts so much. . . I don't want to _die_."

It broke her heart to see the child in so much pain. Alys stroked Lucy's hair until she fell asleep and stayed by her side while she slept.

The child was gone a few hours later. A fever burned through her faster than Alys and Daven could remedy it. Lucy's wound became raw and inflamed. Before they knew it, her forehead had been scalding to the touch and sweat broke out all over her frail body. Lucy had been thrashing around restlessly one moment and completely still the next. Alys carried her body to the forest floor after all the warmth had finally seeped away. They buried Lucy beneath the tree she had called her home.

A tidal wave of rage was churning inside Alysanne after her friend had been laid to rest. She grabbed two spears from the treehouse, intent on drawing blood from the men who had murdered Lucy. Daven gaped at her in confusion when he saw the weapons."W-what are you doing?"

Alys shoved a spear into his hands. "I'm going after the bastards that killed Lucy. Come on."

"We can't f-fight them! You saw what they can do."

"That's why we _have_ to fight them. Those monsters have to be stopped."

"We won't be able to win," Daven protested.

Alys glared him down. "Fine. If you won't help, I'll just go by myself. Not like it'll be any different." She left him stuttering by the treehouse.

The raiders were not hard to find. All Alys had to do was follow Lucy's trail of blood. Along the way, she discovered a gruesome sight. A monkey carcass was littered haphazardly in the mud. Something had cleaved poor Patches in two. Alys buried the loyal beast where she found him. She arrived at the clearing a few minutes later.

There were a handful of fallen trees and splintered trunks around the area, along with a large imprint in the floor. Leaves and branches had been trampled flat underneath some heavy object. Alys briefly examined the perimeter of the clearing and discovered a set of tracks that travelled southward. The prints were circular and sank deep into the spongy forest floor, implying that they had been created by some massive beast. _These tracks are from the triceratops Lucy told me about. The hunters must have followed it, wherever it went._

Alys followed the trail through countless miles of jungle. She would occasionally notice subtle hints of humanity such as shreds of clothing caught on branches, or shallow footprints in the mud. _There's three sets of footprints. It seems like these men are escorting the triceratops. Have they tamed it like how Lucy tamed her monkey?_

Alys was beginning to doubt herself. She might be able to kill all three men if she took them by surprise. But if they had a triceratops on their side, she would stand no chance. _Maybe if I pick them off one by one and escape before the beast notices. . ._

The jungle ended so abruptly that Alys almost tumbled to her demise. Trees suddenly parted ahead to reveal rolling green hills as far as the eye could see. Alys found herself standing at the top of one such mound. She used her elevation to scan the landscape. A great grey river snaked its way between the hillsides and abruptly plummeted off a cliff. A handful of windblown trees were dotted around the gentle knolls. Alys barely noticed any of the other features. Her attention was focused on a single prominent location. Dominating the center of the rugged terrain was a fortified human encampment.

The perimeter was marked by a shallow moat lined with spikes. A wooden palisade had been erected behind the trench, while crude thatch towers overlooked every corner. Half a dozen tents formed a neat line beside the far wall. There was a wooden stables that held an assortment of creatures; a trio of equus, an iguanodon, and two triceratops. The entire compound gave the impression that it had been established fairly recently, most likely by a significantly larger group. Alys suspected that this was only an outpost for a massive tribe seeking to expand its territory. She studied every structure within the base with vivid fascination. However, what caught Alysanne's attention was a trio of cages beside the eastern wall.

One of the cages was empty, but the other two still contained their respective occupants. Alys recognized a pair of familiar red shapes. The raptors from her first day on the island. They had somehow gotten captured by this group and were now being held in captivity. Both monsters had been muzzled and chained to their cages by heavy metal links. The cramped setup restricted their movement to a few feet in any direction. Despite their earlier attempt to kill her, Alys found herself pitying the beasts.

The alpha raptor noticed her and lashed its tail in agitation, snarling through its muzzle the whole time. The second raptor was slumped on the ground but lifted its head when it caught scent of her. It gave a piteous whine and collapsed back onto the floor in resignation. Alys was so concentrated on the caged monsters that she almost missed their sibling.

The third raptor was outside circling the human compound. At first, Alys thought it had escaped from its cage and was trying to free its siblings. Then she realized the truth. The raptor was patrolling the perimeter of the base like a trained guard dog. Somehow, the humans had managed to tame the monster and bend it to their will.

The idea that any group could subjugate a feral monster into submission terrified Alys more than she could say. Perhaps the only thing that frightened her more was the group of slaves chained outside the camp. Roughly a score of ragged captives were toiling in the fields beside the base. The group mainly consisted of men but there were a handful of women and children too. The prisoners were all chained to each other by metal collars around their ankles.

Alys suddenly had doubts about her plan to attack the compound. This tribe clearly had experience enslaving others to their will, beasts and humans alike. Furthermore, it was clear that they had vast numbers on their side. If the amount of tents was any indication, there could be dozens of soldiers living in the base. A single mistake would bring their wrath upon her. Alys reviewed her options and decided it would be better to withdraw from her ludicrous scheme.

In the end however, fate had other plans for her. The domesticated raptor spotted Alys and let loose a primal screech before charging at her. Alys cursed and made a beeline for the woods. Unfortunately the beast's cry had attracted more attention from guards in the compound. A horn was sounded and a surge of angry voices clamoured to a crescendo.

"Over there!" a voice shouted. "By the jungle!"

"I want her taken alive!" a second voice bellowed.

Alysanne was within steps of the jungle when she suddenly found a crimson shadow blocking her path. The raptor lunged at Alys but she managed to twist away at the last instant. She swung her spear and caught the monster on the side of its head. The beast stumbled away, snarling. Alys glimpsed more assailants pouring out from the eastern gate. Some of them were mounted on horseback. Without thinking, she whirled around and sprinted in the opposite direction.

The raptor quickly recovered from the blow and reoriented itself. Without a moment's hesitation, the monster plunged into the jungle to prevent Alys from escaping. It stalked her from the shadows, slipping through the dense foliage and keeping pace with her. Alys cursed under her breath. She would need to find a different means of escape. All the while, she could hear the sound of hoofbeats pounding closer and closer.

In the blink of an eye, Alysanne found herself lying face-down on the dirt. Her legs gave out from under her as if some unseen force had yanked her back. Panic seized her heart as she realized her legs were bound together by some net-like contraption.

Alys spat out a mouthful of dirt and attempted to rise but found herself immobilized on the ground. She managed to roll onto her back and noticed a bola tangled around her ankles. Alys tried to kick the cable off but discovered that it was stuck fast.

Her futile attempts to free herself were interrupted by the arrival of her assailants. Three massive Equus pulled to a halt beside her, kicking up a cloud of dust in the process. Alys shielded her eyes. When the debris had finally cleared, she risked a glance at her attackers.

Two lean muscular men sat astride enormous warhorses on either side of her. One was completely bald and had a squarish face while the other sported a disheveled mop of rusty orange hair. The figure that caught Alysanne's attention was seated between the others. Built like a mountain and armored in heavy steel, the man made an impressive sight. His most defining feature was a fierce black beard, just as wild and unruly as his mount's. His coal-black stallion was much larger and more imposing than its brethren. The beast was laden with muscle and flaunted a magnificent obsidian mane.

The orange haired man urged his mount forward to get a closer look at her. "Isn't this the bitch from earlier?"

"T'other was a girl." The bald man had another bola gripped in his hands. "This one's a woman grown."

"She's pretty too." The scrawny man rubbed his hands together with a wicked grin.

Alys had regained enough of her wits to realize what was going on. She would _not_ let herself become one of their slaves. Alys scowled at the orange haired scoundrel. "Keep your filthy paws off me."

"A feisty one," he cackled.

"You will do as she says," a deep voice thundered. The black stallion trotted toward Alys. She glanced up at the bearded man and noticed a bloody crater on his cheek for the first time. _Patches' work, no doubt._

"Aye, Keith. As you command." The orange haired rogue backed his steed away.

Keith rested a hand on the crimson raptor's head as it scampered beside his warhorse. The overgrown lizard fixed its beady yellow glare on Alys and hissed. To make matters worse, she noticed four more spearmen approaching on foot. Keith wheeled his mount around to face them. "Bring the whore to my tent."

At that moment, the party was interrupted by a large commotion from the compound. Without any warning, two blood red raptors erupted onto the crest of the hill. Everyone instinctively flinched away. One of the equus was so startled that it reared up and threw its rider off. Both raptors were completely unmuzzled and unchained. The two predators had somehow escaped from their cages.

The alpha raptor scanned the crowd before locking eyes with its former packmate, now domesticated. The tamed beast hesitantly retreated under the sheer intensity of its superior's glare. The alpha spread its crest feathers and snarled at the smaller beast, low and menacing. The domesticated raptor meekly snarled back. Before anyone could so much as blink, the alpha lunged for its underlying and rammed against it with the force of a landslide. The tamed raptor backed away and shook its head. Something seemed to change about its demeanour. The beast's pupils widened and it suddenly seemed to know where it was, as if coming out of a trance. It immediately scampered to the alpha's side and snarled at its former human masters.

While the entire exchange was taking place, two of the spearmen tried to circle behind the wild raptors. One man brandished a net and was about to throw it when a red blur knocked him to the ground. Pinned in place, he was completely helpless as the raptor locked its jaws around his neck and tore into the soft flesh with a spray of blood. The soldier's mangled scream echoed across the hill.

By that point, the other men had recovered from their initial shock of seeing the monsters loose. Weapons were brandished and orders were bellowed. But the raptors were already gone by the time the humans had organized themselves. Without a backward glance, the alpha darted into the jungle with its newly liberated packmates close behind. Alys watched the three red spectres disappear into the foliage.

Keith immediately rounded on his men. "What are you waiting for? Don't let them escape!"

The two other riders galloped into the jungle on their steeds, with the three spearmen following on foot. Keith briefly scowled at Alys but made up his mind. He spurred his mount into the forest, leaving her alone on the hill. She sighed in relief, but she was still in danger. The bola would prevent Alys from fleeing while her enemies were gone. Keith and his men could return for her at any moment and she needed to escape quickly.

Alysanne gripped the bola with both hands and attempted to pry it loose but found it firmly entwined around her legs. The only way to free herself was to untangle the mess, but that would take too long. Time was of the essence. Alys scanned her surroundings for anything that might be useful. Her heart skipped a beat when she glimpsed something bright and shiny. It was a steel knife holstered on the dead man's hip.

Slowly but surely, Alys dragged herself over to the human carcass. It took a few minutes of trial and error, but she finally ended up beside the body. She had just positioned herself beside the dead man's belt when she felt as if someone was watching her. Out of the corner of her eye, Alysanne noticed someone looming over her.

"N-need some help?" a familiar voice asked.

Alys couldn't believe her eyes. Daven had returned for her! She felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude as he cut her free from the ropes. Daven helped Alys to her feet and she pulled him into an embrace. "I can't believe you came back for me!"

"I couldn't just leave you alone."

"You set the raptors free, didn't you?"

Daven shifted around uncomfortably. "I needed a distraction."

Alys kissed him on the cheek, much to his surprise. "You brave fool. I can't thank you enough."

They were both red-cheeked and breathless with joy by the time they pulled apart from the embrace. However, their elation was short-lived. Alys and Daven were alerted to the return of a rider by the sound of hoofbeats.

Keith pulled his stallion to a halt on the hill crest. He glowered down at them and unsheathed a steel axe from his back. Without time to think, Alys and Daven sprinted away from the rider. The drum of hoofbeats against the ground followed them as they fled.

Alys faltered after reaching the edge of the hill. She was knee-deep in a river that threatened to pull her downstream. . . and to her death. Before her was a sheer drop that ended dozens of feet below. If the drop didn't kill her, the animals congregated around the water below surely would. But there was no other choice. Behind them, Keith was drawing closer with every second. Getting captured by him would result in a fate worse than death.

Alys made up her mind in that instant. Pulling Daven by the hand, she took a running start toward the edge. Her feet were pounding against mud one second and thin air the next. Time seemed to slow for a small eternity. She heard the whicker of Keith's warhorse as it struggled to stop before plummeting off the cliff. She heard the roar of water as it cascaded down below. She saw the jagged tips of boulders at the waterfall's mouth, and the fauna scattered around the riverbank. Every detail of that instant was engraved into her mind like a painting. Then time sped up again and the water was rushing to meet her.

Alys slammed into something so hard that the breath was knocked out of her lungs. She was underwater a moment later, and sinking to the murky bottom. She distantly realized that Daven was nowhere in sight. A stream of bubbles erupted from her mouth as she tried to call for him. Then everything went black.

* * *

It was the otter that woke her, hours later on some muddy riverbank. Alys swatted the curious creature away and blinked at her surroundings wearily. She was half submerged in a churning grey river. The waters were lined by tall pine trees and large boulders on either side. Alys immediately recognized that the climate was entirely different from her former tropical home. The temperature here was colder, though not freezing. For that Alys was thankful, drenched as she was.

Alysanne's first priority was tending to herself. Ignoring the inquisitive otter scampering around her in circles, she began taking inventory of herself. Alys owned nothing save for the soggy clothes on her back. They would do little to protect her from wild beasts, but at least they would offer some protection from the elements. First however, she would need to dry them off; damp clothes were prone to do more harm than good. Alys stripped down to her underclothes and spread her shirt and pants on a warm rock. With that taken care of, she inspected her own body and discovered that it was in good condition. She was bruised in a few areas and sported a few tiny cuts but was otherwise unharmed. That was fortunate, especially considering the events of the past few hours. . .

Everything rushed back to Alys so suddenly that she found herself kneeling. _Daven,_ she thought. _Where is he?_ Some movement caught her eye. It was the otter. The beast was scurrying back and forth, as if it were trying to communicate with her. Alys regarded it warily. "I don't suppose you've seen my friend?"

The otter stood up on its hind legs and stared into her eyes. Then just as suddenly, it turned tail and scampered down the riverbank. Alys instinctively followed it. After a few minutes, the beast stopped by a cluster of boulders. Alysanne gasped when she saw Daven face-down in the mud. She immediately ran over and flipped him onto his back. Holding her hand to his chest, she felt for a pulse and found one. She was overjoyed when his eyes flared open a moment later.

Unfortunately, Daven hadn't managed to hold onto anything either. Between the two of them, they possessed nothing more than the clothes on their backs. But that didn't matter. They had each other.

They spent the rest of the day organizing themselves. Alys discovered a small cave for them to shelter in temporarily and they started a fire to dry their clothes. Daven gathered roots and shrubs for them to dine on. For some reason, the otter kept following them around. Daven started feeding the mammal scraps from his own plate and from that moment on, he was rarely seen without the otter by his side. The beast even proved its worth by catching fish in the river for them to dine on. When it was clear that the otter meant to stay with them permanently, Daven suggested to name it 'Patches' in honour of Lucy's late pet. Alys readily agreed to his idea.

The next few days were much the same as the first. Alys and Daven, along with their new friend, got into a routine of foraging, fishing, and feeding. Alysanne eventually crafted a pair of spears and a dagger using some bones and branches. Using their new weapons, Alys and Daven slowly journeyed north with the intention of putting more distance between Keith and themselves. Alys and Daven took comfort in each other's company during the night and near the end, they found themselves closer than ever.

After a week of travelling, they were thrust into the possibility of human contact once more. It was during the evening that Alys spotted smoke rising from a campfire somewhere to their left. When she showed Daven, the two of them stopped to discuss the sighting amongst themselves. In the end, they decided it would be best to scout the encampment for other humans. Alys knew that she and Daven could not hope to survive long in the wilderness alone. They needed allies, or at the very least a permanent shelter. The human camp offered just that.

The fire made it easy for Alys to distinguish the human residents while not revealing herself. The camp was shared by three men and what looked like a juvenile carnotaurus. Alysanne's encounter with Keith still sent her hairs standing on end. She had almost been enslaved and used for the pleasure of those filthy scoundrels. _All men are monsters. Remember what they did to Lucy. Remember what they tried to do to you._ Alys didn't want to take any chances with this new group. She would meet with them, but on _her_ terms.

Scanning the camp, Alys realized she could take them by surprise. One of the men looked much older than the others. He would not offer any resistance if it came to a fight. The carno hatchling would be a problem. . . but she could deter the beast from attacking if she took one of the others as a hostage. Meanwhile, Daven and Patches would back her up from the shadows while giving off the illusion of being a much larger group. Alys grinned at her own genius. Once she put herself in a position of power, the other men would be much more inclined to negotiate.

Alys beckoned Daven and Patches to her side and explained her plan. With a grim nod, Daven crept into position with his spear in hand. Patches took a cue from his owner and scampered into the bushes. When the others were ready, Alys produced her bone dagger and strode into the firelight.

* * *

"You know the rest," Alysanne finished. She looked at each of her three captors in turn. "I won't deny what happened earlier tonight. I tried to take your home by force. I used Willam as a hostage to keep everyone else in line. But everything I did was necessary to protect my friends and myself. Now that you've heard me out, make whatever choice you want."

Alys leaned back and waited for the judgement that would decide her fate. She felt strangely detached from the whole situation, as if everything were happening to a different woman and not her. _I did everything I could,_ she told herself _. Now my life is in their hands._

Willam surprised everyone else by speaking up first. "I trust her."

Even Alys was shocked. But not as much as Joseph, who immediately turned on his companion. "This woman held a knife to your throat! She almost killed you!"

"But she didn't," the old man replied calmly. "I would have done the same if I had been in her position, and experienced the things she's been through."

Joseph was unconvinced. "She could be lying for all we know. Using this story to gain our sympathy."

Otto remained completely silent while his friends were debating. Without a word, the man closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Almost instantly, Winter perked up by his master's side. The huge white wolf bounded up to Alys. She was alarmed to discover that the beast had to crouch down in order to maintain eye contact with her. Alys tried to steady her pulse as the massive predator peered into her soul. Winter's large golden eyes seemed to contain Otto's shadow within them. After a small eternity, the direwolf backed away and curled up by his master's feet.

Otto's eyes flared open. "She's telling the truth. Set them free."

Alys rubbed her wrists after the tethers had been cut loose. She was still not sure what to make of her situation. Somehow, miraculously, she had been released from captivity without a second thought. Alys had been sure they would have kept her enslaved, just as Keith had intended to do. _There are still some good men in the world after all_ , she remarked to herself.

Otto cleared his throat to get her attention. "Seeing how you two have nowhere else to go, you're welcome to stay with us. The cabin might be a bit too small for everybody, but you should be able to fit if Argentum sleeps outside tonight."

Alys glanced around the campsite. A few of the wolves stirred when her eyes swept over them. She shuddered and turned back to Otto. "Thank you for the hospitality. Daven and I would be grateful to sleep in a real shelter tonight."

"Say nothing of it. Just don't cause any trouble and we'll get along fine." Otto gave her a polite smile and turned away.

Alys and Daven were following Otto to the cabin when she was approached by Willam. Alys let the others continue ahead. She stopped and turned to the old man.

"I'm so sorry about earlier," she began.

"No harm was done," Willam chuckled. "Just don't make a habit of introducing yourself to others at knifepoint."

Alys felt heat flushing into her cheeks. "I can't thank you enough. . . but if I may ask, why did you stand up for me earlier?"

The old man smiled. "We can't let ourselves be divided by fear and mistrust. Besides, I'm quick to forgive. My pet. . . not so much. Just give Argentum some space."

The beast in question stalked out from the shadows and growled at her before shambling toward the cabin. Alys gulped and nodded at Willam's advice.

Willam produced something from his belt. "One more thing. I believe this is yours."

It was her bone dagger. Alys accepted the blade hesitantly. She was astounded at how trusting this man was. After all, she had held the very same dagger to his throat only a few hours earlier. "Thank you for everything," Alys finally managed.

Willam only smiled and escorted her to the cabin. Once again, Alys found herself remarking at the kindness of Otto and his group. _These men truly aren't like the others. Oh Lucy, if only you were here. . . Perhaps there is hope for this world after all,_ she thought to herself for the first time.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Sorry this one was late.**

 **The Dweeb 4252, thanks for the support!**

 **Changeling Man, you were absolutely right!**

 **Girlbook, thanks for the continued support. I believe this chapter answered your question ;)**

 **King Endercreeper, thank you very much! I look forward to hearing from you again :)**

 **Blueberrium, thanks for your support! Betrayal? *sniffs* Eh, maybe. We'll have to see :D**

 **Dippycauloss, thanks and don't worry Patches is safe :) Patches II at least. . . Poor Patches I**

 **haydenunstopable, sorry to burst your bubble but I'm not accepting any OCs. I might however recycle a few of your ideas into the story if it's convenient for me.**

 **Jack906, thanks! I hope you enjoyed!**

 **enterelysium, don't worry, we won't see any cliffhangers for a while!**

 **DefendIce, I can confirm that no firearms will show up. As for our characters, I'd estimate our main cast to be in their 30s-40s. The rookies 15-25ish. Please keep in mind these mechanics aren't actually in the story.**

 **Antonatron, thanks it means a lot to know you appreciate my work!**

 **joshben4c, you got your wish!**

 **Thanks for taking the time to check out my first fanfiction, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I will try my best to upload as regularly as possible. Feel free to comment, ask question or criticize my story, review is always welcome. And i** **f you like what you saw, make sure to check out the other ARK: Survival Evolved fanfictions out there. Have a great rest of your day or night.**

 **-DaRumpyBurr**


	17. Daven I

**Daven I**

* * *

 _Thunk!_

Daven's stone axe lodged itself into the fallen log. There was a satisfying _crunch_ as the blade sunk into the wood. He placed his foot on the lumber and pulled the axe free, grimacing from the effort.

Daven tightened his grip on the axe and felt his muscles contract. His arms and shoulders stung as if aflame but he welcomed the pain. It felt like an improvement over before, if only slightly. He was growing stronger every day but the process was long and exhausting. Daven spent hours labouring on various projects; cutting trees, dragging lumber, splitting planks, and hauling rocks around. There was, of course, some pretext for the work, but Daven hardly cared about why he was labouring on the project. The other survivors wanted to establish a secure line of shelters along the coast but Daven was motivated for an entirely different reason. He wanted to become stronger for Alys.

Daven's physical appearance had never much bothered him before, but things were different now. It hadn't mattered one bit when he was alone with Alys; she had always made him feel appreciated. But things had changed after they joined up with the other survivors. Daven felt skinny and weak in comparison to the other men. . . particularly Otto.

Daven clenched his axe handle, grit his teeth, and slammed his blade into the log harder than before.

He had seen the way Alys looked at Otto, the way her eyes would light up whenever he was near. It made Daven feel nauseous just to think about it, but those poisonous thoughts were constantly infiltrating his head. Daven looked at himself internally, tried to understand what Otto possessed that he didn't. _It isn't just his body,_ he realized _. No, it's more than that, it's his personality as well._

Daven brought his axe up to his shoulder and sent it hurtling toward the lumber again.

He felt like an outcast in the group, even though the others had tried their best to welcome him. No matter how many times they included him in their discussions, or brought him along for expeditions, Daven felt like an outsider. He always felt shy, nervous, and painfully awkward around the others. Alys was different. She got along great with everybody. Perhaps it was because of her dazzling smile, her charming laugh, or her way of making you feel like the only person in the world. Alys fit into the group as if she had always belonged. It was pure agony for Daven to watch her slowly drifting away from him as she made new friends.

Daven missed the time they had been alone, those precious few weeks after they had escaped from death together. He had never felt better than when he saved Alys from those disgusting men. The days that followed his journey north had been rough, but it hardly mattered. Daven had been with Alys, and that had been his only desire from the very start. He had been entranced by her from the moment he washed onto the island, with the most beautiful woman in the world standing over him like an angel. The other survivors likened the island to hell, but for Daven, it was nothing short of heaven.

During their journey north, there had been no one to steal her attention away, no one to detract from their time together. It had been wonderful yet Daven often felt guilty for cherishing that time. The only reason they had been alone was because of Lucy's death and although Daven had never been particularly close with the child, he still felt sad from her loss. Daven knew how much it had impacted Alys, but he had been there to comfort her when she needed it most. Alys had never realized it, in fact, she still seemed oblivious. Daven felt as if she had taken him for granted. How hard was it for her to see? He had been there for her in her time of need, in fact he had been there from the very start.

As was often the case with thinking about Alys, Daven felt frustrated and jealous, but most of all confused. He didn't understand what he did wrong, or what he should have done to win her attention. It was impossible to tell what she wanted. Just thinking about Alys hurt him more than any physical wound. He thought about how close they had been before, how they were drifting apart now. It was frightening and confusing and impossible to understand. Daven had no idea what to do, how to fix what had happened, and it _hurt_ just to think about her.

There was a light tap on his shoulder, just the faintest touch yet it sent him whirling around all the same. Daven's axe flashed up but he quickly lowered the weapon, abashed. It was only Willam, with an expression of concern shadowing his tired face. The old man pointed at the ruined pile of pulp that Daven had been hacking at.

"I believe you've already slain your foe. That log should no longer trouble you. . ."

"S-sorry, I got a bit -"

"- Distracted?" William inquired.

"Just so."

Willam stroked his wispy white beard thoughtfully. "Aye, I called you a few times but you seemed too focused on that log." He indicated the ruined pile of splinters with his foot. "Is anything troubling your mind, perchance?"

Daven managed to regain his composure before the other man could inquire further. "No, no. . . I'm just a little tired is all. It's truly nothing to fret about."

Willam seemed to know something was wrong, regardless of Daven's falsehood. The old man scrutinized him a moment longer. "As you say. I'll always be there if you need a fellow outcast to talk with. Now, let's get back to the task at hand, shall we?"

 _Crack!_

A thunderous roar echoed through the forest, shaking the very trees and sending flocks of vibrant birds winging into the air. The deafening cry was followed by the sound of an ancient tree crashing into the earth a heartbeat later. Branches splintered and limbs cracked as wood met dirt. A large grey therapod clambered over the fallen tree and let loose another earth-shaking roar. The monster lashed its thick grey tail impatiently, growling low and deep.

Willam smiled and stroked the carnivore's silver muzzle. Argentum rumbled happily under his master's touch. It was still hard to believe how quickly the Tyrannosaurus had grown. When Daven had first encountered the beast, Argentum was only slightly shorter than him and twice as heavy. Presently, the silver carnivore towered over Daven by a few heads and must have weighed at least eight hundred pounds. Argentum's neck and tail were thick with muscle, and his jaws were strong enough to crush an adult human in a single bite. The only thing more frightening than the juvenile's size was his potential. According to Willam, his pet was only a fraction of his final size. Agentum was currently a bit larger than a raptor but he would eventually grow ten times larger.

Willam turned back to Daven, grinning. "It seems Argentum would like us to return to work. Come now, this shelter won't build itself."

With that, the old man grabbed his axe and started hacking at the fallen oak. Argentum snorted at Daven before stomping into the forest to knock down more trees, his muscular silver tail swaying as he went. Daven shook his head to clear all thoughts of Alys, brandished his axe high above his head, and brought it screaming down onto the unsuspecting lumber.

* * *

The logs lined the beach like miniature ships ready to sail into a vast sandy sea. Daven and Willam each grabbed an end of the closest log and hauled it to a flat section of the coast overlooking the sea. Grunting with effort, the two men maneuvered the lumber into a deep sandy hole. It stuck out of the beach like a totem pole, stout and proud. Daven and Willam repeated the process until the first pillar was joined by its twin. The two men each leaned a log diagonally against a pillar. In the end, they were left with the framework for a wooden lean-to,

Daven and Willam laid wooden planks over the slanted beams, forming a crude ceiling. Willam wove palm fronds in between the planks to act as shingling for the roof, while Daven hammered planks into the front until only a small entrance remained as the door. He left a few planks near the cavity, so they could be put up or taken down as needed.

When the lean-to itself was completed, Willam retrieved supplies that they had brought from their base and stashed it inside the shelter; baskets filled with roots, yams, and berries; wooden bowls; hide waterskins; a fur cot; three spears with bone spearheads; a bone dagger; a stone axe; and finally, a set of hide clothing. The supplies would be enough to sustain a new castaway for a few days. After that, they would have to provide for themselves.

The supplies seemed far too meagre for Daven's liking. If it were up to him, he would have provided more food for the new castaways. At the same time, however, he understood how many resources it took to supply a single lean-to. It would be impossible to stock each and every shelter with sufficient provisions, especially considering how many checkpoints Otto intended to build. In the end, it was a choice between supplying a handful of survivors very well or giving a much larger number of castaways a chance at survival. Otto reasoned that it would be better to assist a large amount, and the matter was decided.

"We're done," Willam said. He glanced at the glaring midday sun. "On schedule as well."

"We made good progress," Willam replied, feeling content.

The brief moment of elation was enough to clear his mind for a second, and for the first time that day, Daven took pride in his contributions to the project. He knew firsthand how difficult a survivor's first few days on the Island were. Had it not been for Alys' quick intervention, he would have been raptor meat within minutes of waking up on the coast. Even after that, he and Alys would surely have perished if Lucy had not saved them from the vicious nightmares. Daven could only imagine the fates of hundreds of survivors who had not been as fortunate as him, survivors that washed ashore alone and afraid. Without any outside support, the helpless beginners were doomed to early deaths.

Daven began to realize the significance of this project. There was so much more meaning behind his labour than simply impressing Alys; the lives of other humans depended on his effort. He only hoped it was not too late, and that his contributions would be enough to make a difference in their lives.

The very ground trembled as Argentum stomped over to where Daven and Willam were standing. Patches was perched atop the Tyrannosaurus' head, chattering and chirping as his furry head swiveled around. Daven smiled nervously at his pet otter, who seemed to have the heart of a lion. It was unnerving to see the small creature balanced atop the massive carnivore's head, even though Argentum did not seem to mind. In fact, the Tyrannosaurus hardly seemed to notice his passenger.

The juvenile rumbled low in his chest and lowered his head to receive affection from his owner. Willam happily stroked Argentum's side, while Patches took advantage of the lower elevation to jump to the ground. The otter swiftly scampered up Daven's back and curled himself around his neck, like a scarf. Daven smiled and caressed his furry companion. Patches would follow him around wherever he went, though the otter often got bored when Daven had to perform dull repetitive tasks such as splitting wood or constructing shelters. Patches would usually scamper into the undergrowth to find something to entertain himself with, such as a shiny pebble or bright flower. However, the otter always seemed to know when it was time to leave, and returned moments before Daven and Willam moved on.

Willam patted Argentum's flank and the great grey beast sank to the ground. Willam retrieved a custom-built saddle from beside the shelter and harnessed it to his pet. When the saddle was safely secured, Willam swung himself onto the carnivore's back. Daven climbed into the second seat a moment later. The world shifted and swayed violently as Argentum lurched to his feet. Daven had to grip the saddle's wooden handles to avoid falling off. He was still getting used to riding the beast, just as Argentum was getting used to being ridden.

The juvenile tossed his head and growled impatiently, awaiting instructions from his master. Willam urged his mount toward the ocean with a gentle flick of the harness. Argentum obliged, thundering toward the waves and stopping when Willam dug his heels into the beast's sides. The old man wheeled his pet around so they were facing the shelter. Daven craned his neck to admire the base. It was visible from the shore, just as they intended it to be. Hopefully, new survivors would not have trouble finding the lean-to.

"I wonder where our escort has gone," Willam wondered aloud.

"They won't be far, I would say." Daven put in.

"Aye, they'll find us eventually. We should get moving." Willam flicked the reins and Argentum started thundering down the coast, heading southeast.

Daven looked out to the sea as they jostled along. He stared at the frothing green-blue waves, mesmerized by the shining allure of their ever-shifting movement. Swells and troughs climbed over one another, appearing and disappearing before lapping against the sandy coast. Daven's eyes flicked upward to where gulls were circling overhead. The sleek white birds squawked and screamed at one another, occasionally diving below the waves and reappearing moments later with massive fish writhing in their beaks.

Daven turned his glance to the jungle, with its endless shadows and mysteries. He never ventured very far into the shadowy bowels of the rainforest, for fear of the monsters that dwelled within. He had learned his lesson with the raptors and was not keen to repeat that experience.

The trees blurred together as Argentum hurtled forward. They thundered past clueless crabs and trilobites scuttling along the beach. Startled dodo birds would squawk indignantly as they passed by. Argentum would occasionally scoop up one of the chubby fowl whole, crunching and chewing on the snack as he ran. Other creatures were more wary of the growing carnivore. Huge turtles would curl into their shells, and fleet-footed gallimimus would flee in the opposite direction upon seeing Argentum charging down the coast.

They were a few minutes south of the newly erected lean-to when a snorting parasaur came hurtling out of the jungle, its eyes white with fear. The parasaur was bleeding from a dozen claw marks yet it barrelled onward. Snarls and barks echoed behind the fleeing herbivore. The parasaur was a few strides away from the jungle when a direwolf darted out from the undergrowth, hard on its heels. The first wolf was joined by a second, then a third.

Emboldened by the scent of fresh blood, Argentum beelined straight for the wounded beast and closed his jaws around its neck with a heavy _crunch!_ The juvenile's erratic movement almost threw his passengers off. Daven barely managed to avoid tumbling off the saddle, and Patches had to cling on for dear life. Argentum came to a rapid stop, his claws digging into the sand and sending a fine plume of dust into the air. The three direwolves approached the carcass, growling and snarling. Argentum roared back, shaking the very beach beneath their paws. The wolves hesitated and paused a few feet away from the corpse.

Argentum dipped his head to the carcass and ripped off a huge chunk of meat. Willam nervously urged his mount to back away from the corpse. For an instant, it did not seem the Tyrannosaurus would comply. After a few seconds, however, Argentum gradually began backing away.

"Don't eat our escort, Argentum," Willam half-joked.

The juvenile growled and bent his head to feast on the fresh kill. Willam sighed in relief as the direwolves came to feed on the corpse. The tension from earlier abated, if only slightly. One of the wolves would always watch Argentum while the others feasted. Daven recognized Dust from the trio of wolves, the beta male of Winter's pack. The great direwolf had a dusty brown coat and dark black eyes, large and observant.

The beasts all ate their share of the kill and the parasaur carcass disappeared within a matter of minutes. When the last morsel had disappeared, Willam wheeled Argentum around to the south and urged him into a lumbering sprint. The three wolves fell in behind them.

They travelled along the coast for a while before Willam dug his heels into Argentum's flanks and slowed the Tyrannosaurus to a halt. He gently nudged the juvenile and Argentum sank to the earth. Willam dismounted the beast and Daven followed him down. The three direwolves padded over to the shade of the jungle, panting in the midday heat. Their thick coats made it especially uncomfortable for them to be this far south.

"This looks as good a place as any to begin," Willam said as he surveyed the beach.

Daven nodded and produced a hide sack from his belt. He shook the sack a few times to stretch it out and slung it over his shoulder. Willam produced a similar bag and mirrored the process. The two men headed off in opposite directions. Daven paced along the northern side of the beach, searching for rocks and shells, driftwood and debris. Whenever he found a sizable object, he would stash it in his hide sack. Patches leapt onto the sand to help him search, though the otter only seemed interested in collecting the shiniest shells and rocks. Daven convened with Willam when his sack was bulging and heavy. They both spilled the contents of their sacks onto the beach and began arranging the objects to form a large arrow, pointing in the direction of their newly constructed shelter. The direction arrow would be impossible for any wandering survivor to miss.

When the two men had finished arranging the arrow, they mounted Argentum and rode further down the beach. They repeated this process of constructing arrows as the sun slowly sank lower in the sky. Daven fell into a pattern as he worked. They had been doing this for days now. Daven had already lost count, due to the repetitive nature of his work. His schedule was always the same; wake up, eat a hasty breakfast, mount Argentum with Willam and ride off, construct a shelter, and spend the rest of the day building arrows that pointed to the newly erected base. They were able to build a single structure every day. _I could figure out how many days I've been doing this by counting the structures along the coast when we return tonight_ , Daven thought to himself. _Oh, bother, what would be the point?_ Time seemed to work strangely on the Island, when the days all blurred together. It was better to forget that time existed altogether and focus on the present.

Daven's thoughts inevitably circled back to Alys, as they always did. More than anything, he had wanted to be partnered with Alys for the task of building structures. However, Otto had decided otherwise. While contemplating the project, he decided it would be best to split into two groups so they could cover the coast with shelters faster. Otto, Joseph and Alys formed one group, while Daven and Willam formed the second. Perhaps the others did not trust Daven and Alys to be alone together. After all, their very first encounter with Otto's group had been a tense standoff that the others were not likely to forget. Willam seemed to have forgiven them already, but Otto and Joseph were still a bit wary. Thus, the two men insisted on arranging their groups in such a way that Daven and Alys could be watched.

Apart from their first encounter, no major conflict had arisen within the camp. Otto's group seemed trustworthy enough, and neither Daven nor Alys had caused any trouble. The castaways lived in peace and harmony, which was for the best. They would only be able to survive and thrive if they were united. A fractured group with internal rivalries would surely perish. Aside from day-to-day survival, there were also long-term goals to keep in mind. Namely helping new castaways survive the island, but also avoiding the larger and more dangerous tribes. Daven only knew of Keith's group, but there were surely other tribes populating the Island. Otto was formidable with his pack of direwolves, but surely he could not hope to stand against the might of the slavers, with their sheer manpower and all their domesticated warbeasts.

Daven knew his group needed allies, but so far they had not seen any other tribes. Hopefully a handful of new castaways would join their group, but even then the beginners would be more troublesome than helpful. What they really needed was experienced allies, possibly with domesticated creatures of their own. Until then, Daven and his friends could only hope to help as many castaways as they could. Perhaps a few of the new survivors would choose to join them. After all, there was strength in numbers. Unfortunately, so far Daven and Willam had only encountered corpses and skeletons. Alys said that her group had not fared any better.

Daven was watching the clouds swirl and shift from orange to rose-gold atop Argentum's back when the direwolves accompanying them let loose a long howl. Their ululating cries were answered by the howling of more wolves, further down the beach. Daven craned his neck to see Winter and four of his pack loping to meet them. The wolves were pulling a wooden wagon with Otto at the reigns. Seated behind him were Joseph and Alys, who waved when they saw Argentum. Daven waved back as the two groups reunited.

"How was the day, old friend?" Otto called out as he drew near.

"Just fine," Willam replied. "We had no troubles. And yourself?"

"Nothing the wolves couldn't handle."

The wagon pulled up beside Argentum. Daven could tell it was really just the sled, but with wheels fixed to the axles so it could travel along the beach. Otto inclined his head at Daven. "Good to see you, Daven."

"A-and you, Otto," Daven stuttered. The wolf man made him uneasy with his wild grey eyes.

Joseph silently nodded at Daven, stoic as ever. _I need to get on his good side,_ Daven reflected to himself. All his worries melted away when Alys graced him with a smile. Daven managed to return her kindness with a smile of his own. There was no time to exchange any words, for the others were already preparing to leave.

"It seems like Argentum's grown larger, just today alone," Otto remarked.

"Aye, he's larger than a raptor now." Willam smiled.

"Let's see if he can match a raptor's speed. Race you home?" Otto gripped his reins enthusiastically.

"You've got yourself a deal," Willam grinned back. He kicked Argentum into a sprint before Otto could get another word in.

"Hey, that's unfair!" They heard Otto shout from behind. Joseph laughed and Alys chuckled as Otto flicked his reins to make up for lost ground.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Happy New Years everyone! Sorry for how late this one was. I've been incredibly busy with school. Anyways, I just wanted to let you all know that this story is far from dead. I have so much more planned to write, it's just going to take a while to write it all. . .**

 **Raimon, thank you for your support! It remains to be seen whether any pairings will emerge**

 **Girlbook, thank you for the continued support. The last chapter was indeed very sad, hopefully this one caused less tears.**

 **Changeling Man, thanks for your support, I intended to add more characters since the beginning of this story!**

 **SoulEater841, thank you for the support, I'm grateful for you and everyone else that has decided to follow this story!**

 **The Dweeb 4252, thanks! I look forward to every one of your reviews.**

 **King Endercreeper, thank you for the long review. I really appreciate the time you took to critique my writing and I will try to keep your suggestions in mind for the future. I'll do my best to make some changes so the story will flow much smoother in later chapters. Thanks once again for the review and the continued support!**

 **joshben4c, thank you for the kind review! Fortunately, I'm fine at the moment but if I ever need help I'll let you know!  
**

 **Blueberrium, if you think those tragedies are bad, just wait and see what I have planned ;)**

 **jj, thank you for the support!**

 **Diplocauloss, hmmm I wonder who it is :) Thanks for the continued support!**

 **Rich-Kun, I'm glad to hear this was your first review! Thank you for the support and I fully intend to keep updating this story in the future.**

 **JimMoriatyH1, I'm glad that you're enjoying my story so far! I hope you continue to enjoy what I have planned for the future.**

 **KingStar2328, thank you for the support! I'm glad you enjoyed my story so far!**

 **DefendIce, unfortunately the time period I envisioned this story being set in does not have any firearms, and I wanted to keep the feeling of medieval dinosaur island. That being said, I do intend to add metal tools and armor very soon. The aging is not going to be based on ARK times and it will take over a year for Argentum to reach maturity. Anyway, thank you for the review!**

 **Philip Cohen, thank you for the support! This chapter may not live up to the last, but I have some exciting chapters planned.**

 **arkfortnitemania, thank you! I'll certainly do my best!  
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 **Guest, that remains to be seen but it is a possibility.**

 **ShadowKing92, Thanks for the support and I hope you got your wish!**

* * *

 **Thanks for taking the time to check out my first fanfiction, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I will try my best to upload as regularly as possible. Feel free to comment, ask question or criticize my story, review is always welcome. And i** **f you like what you saw, make sure to check out the other ARK: Survival Evolved fanfictions out there. Have a great rest of your day or night.**

 **-DaRumpyBurr**


	18. Joseph V

**Joseph V**

* * *

The winds howled softly through the ravine, bestowing a ghostlike quality to its pale grey walls. Soft white snowflakes drifted down from the heavens to cake the earth below. A fine layer of the snowy powder had settled on the rocks and boulders, the pines and birches, the hard grey-green shrubs, and the frozen stream that snaked along the ravine floor.

Joseph was crouched between two rocks in the middle of the canyon. Joseph pulled his furs closer about himself and rubbed his gloved hands together to thaw his half-frozen fingers. He exhaled on his hands to keep them warm with his foggy breath, for all the good it did. The cold still bit through layers of his clothing to stab at his flesh below. Joseph wondered if he would ever get used to the north, with its frigid climate and icy weather. He was gradually getting accustomed to the cold, albeit far too slowly for his liking. At the very least, Joseph could tolerate the freezing winds and snow. Daven was having far more difficulties. The scrawny man was huddled in so many furs that he resembled a direbear cub, yet he was still shivering all the same. Joseph had saved Daven from a world of pain back at The Wolfden when he had recommended wearing more layers of clothing.

"We're going north, _boy_ ," Joseph had warned. "The true north, where the winds will slice through your hide as if it were nothing. Put on some more furs, unless you mean to freeze to death."

He had not meant to sound so harsh, yet his words had caused Daven to recoil anyway. For a moment, it seemed as if the young man would start sobbing. Fortunately, Otto was nearby and had overheard their conversation.

"Joseph speaks truly," Otto said reassuringly. "The weather will not be kind where we're headed. Come, let's see if my spare clothing fits you."

Joseph was grateful for his friend's swift intervention. The last thing they needed was a useless hunting partner during the expedition. They were far from any help and could not afford to lose a single party member. Joseph made sure to keep an eye on Daven at all times, to make sure the beginner would not lose his nerves and break down.

"How are you faring?" Joseph hollered over the wind.

"F-f-fine," Daven stuttered from under his furs.

"Hold it together a while longer, we've got the rest of the day ahead of us." Joseph clapped the rookie on his shoulder and went to check on Otto.

Their leader was slumped against a boulder, motionless except for the steady rise and fall of his chest. Otto's eyes were closed and his fur hood was drawn over his head to protect his ears from the cold. He seemed completely at home in his small nook, as if he were basking in the warmth of a fire inside their cabin. Otto was wearing fewer layers than either Daven or Joseph, yet he still seemed more comfortable than the two of them put together. Joseph could not help but grin at the sight. _The man is truly half wolf,_ he thought to himself. There was more truth to that than Joseph knew. Otto described his special talent as being able to see through Winter's eyes, but he had to go comatose to access that power. Otto was currently scouting the plains for herds of elk through Winter and would be unconscious for most of the day. Joseph always made sure to look after his friend when he was in his most vulnerable state. He only returned to Daven after scanning the rest of the ravine for danger and ensuring the area was safe.

"Have you seen any movement?" Joseph asked as he climbed back into his position.

Daven always looked half-scared to death whenever Joseph addressed him. He quickly shook his head.

"How are you holding up?" Joseph tried.

"F-fine," Daven answered. He quickly found interest in his shoes and spent the next few minutes staring blankly at them.

Joseph sighed and pulled his furs closer. The next few hours would be extremely uneventful without Otto awake. Not for the first time that day, Joseph found himself wishing that Willam or Alys were with him. Willam was filled with useful knowledge and he was always happy to teach Joseph about the geography of the Island, or the special habits of various creatures. Alys was bold and exciting, and she was always full of surprises. Unfortunately, Joseph was stuck with Daven.

Willam and Alys were both back at The Wolfden, caring for the young woman they had rescued yesterday. Her name was Clarisse if Joseph remembered correctly. Otto had discovered her huddled in one of their shelters along the coast, covered in scratches and petrified with fear. Her lean-to was torn and shredded from a vicious pack of compies that Winter promptly scattered. Joseph had helped chase the monsters away while Otto and Willam brought Clarisse to the safety of the Den. Joseph stayed behind to repair and restock the shelter with Daven and Alys. Afterward, they had continued their patrol of the coast on foot.

Joseph had last seen Clarisse at the Den earlier in the morning before he set out with Otto and Daven. The woman was traumatized by her near-death experiences in the wilderness and she hardly spoke or moved, except to eat and drink. Willam and Alys remained behind to look after the poor girl while she recovered.

Even with her trauma and injuries, it turned out Clarisse was lucky; many of the other shelters only contained dead corpses. It quickly became apparent that the fresh castaways were being killed before Joseph or his friends could rescue them. After all, their only methods of travel were atop Argentum, on wagon, or by foot. Argentum was growing larger and heavier every day. The juvenile was rapidly losing his speed and becoming more of a powerhouse. That was all well and good for their tribe, but it certainly made rescuing new castaways much harder. As for the wagon, the structure was slow and clumsy. Not to mention the fact that the direwolves were not used to travelling so far south. In the north, they could pull the sled for hours on end. However, the wolves were forced to make frequent stops to cool down from the temperate climate of the south.

The fact that Joseph and his friends were unable to reach the new castaways in time led them to the conclusion that they needed faster mounts to patrol the coast. After a few minutes of deliberation at the Den, they finally decided to domesticate some megaloceros, or giant elk. Megaloceros were fairly common throughout the north, and they were also amongst the Island's swiftest creatures. Having some giant elk to ride would be crucial to the rescue efforts. After the matter was decided, Otto declared he would lead an expedition to capture some of the beasts. Joseph volunteered to go with him, while Alys wanted to stay and look after Clarisse. Willam was the closest thing they had to a healer, so of course, he stayed as well. That ultimately left Daven as the third member of the expedition. It was certainly not an ideal team in Joseph's mind, and he would rather have had anyone except Daven. So far, the young man had proven himself to be clumsy and useless. _Perhaps there is still a chance for Daven to prove himself,_ Joseph reflected gloomily. _It's unlikely though. He hasn't done anything impressive based on what I've seen thus far._

A wolf suddenly howled in the distance, at least a few miles away, Joseph judged by the muted quality of the cry. It was the signal to prepare. Daven flinched and turned pale at the sound, freezing in place. Joseph rounded on him immediately.

"None of that now, boy. We're only as strong as our weakest link, so toughen up. I need you alert more than ever."

Daven managed to nod, though he still seemed shocked. Joseph glanced at Otto over his shoulder. He was still comatose in the corner. Joseph grabbed his bow and a quiver filled with narcotic-tipped arrows, twenty in all. He hung the quiver on his back and slung his bow over his shoulder.

Joseph heard the sound of trampling hoofbeats far in the distance. The herd was nearing fast, and a large one at that. Joseph turned to Daven again. "It'll be your responsibility to spring the trap. Do you understand?"

"Y-y-yes" Daven stuttered, nodding.

"I'll be at the top of the ravine. Get ready, they'll be here soon!" Joseph hollered over the wind.

He scanned the ravine walls for an easy way up. There was one area where some rocks and boulders had tumbled down. The rockslide would get Joseph halfway up the walls before he would need to climb. He shouldered his gear and jogged to the pile. Joseph picked his way up the slope carefully, making sure to avoid crevices that might catch his feet. The sound of hoofbeats drumming against the frozen plains got closer with every second.

Joseph reached the top of the pile and jumped, throwing his momentum upward. He caught hold of a ledge with his gloved hands and found a foothold further down. Joseph pushed himself up, found another outcropping, and pulled himself up again. He was halfway up the cliff when his chest and ribs began to ache from the old wounds he had taken during the megalosaurus attack. Joseph began coughing violently, his chest shaking from the exertion. His ribcage burned and he felt a scar on his chest tear open. Joseph grit his teeth and kept climbing. The elk herd would be upon them in a few minutes, and he could not afford to miss his opportunity.

His foot searched for the next foothold but came down upon thin air. Joseph slipped and almost lost his grip, but caught himself just in time. He lashed out with his dangling feet but could not find anything to rest them upon. Joseph cursed under his breath and reached for the next handhold. He was nearly at the top, but his chest was hurting like hell and he could only depend upon his upper body. Joseph grabbed the top of the ledge with his left hand, then his right. He mustered all the strength left in his arms and swung himself up. Joseph managed to swing his right leg onto the ledge. He pushed himself onto the top of the ravine and promptly collapsed.

Joseph took a few seconds to catch his breath before moving on. He used the time to scan the ravine from his new vantage point. The vast snowy fields dipped into the ravine through a wide opening that gradually narrowed down near the centre, where Joseph and his friends had established themselves. The ravine exited into a forest of spruce and northern birch, far behind his current position. Joseph scanned the canyon for his companions. Willam was still hiding behind the same boulder Joseph had left him at, while Otto was still slumped in his nook a few boulders away. They were both pressed against the side of the ravine wall, far from the central path the elk would use.

Joseph stood shakily and made his way to higher ground. He found a good position where he could monitor both the snowy plains and his companions in the ravine below. Movement in the frozen prairie immediately caught his eyes. Joseph turned to see a giant herd of elk being chased by seven direwolves in a pincer formation, with Winter in the centre. Even as he watched, the direwolves began to close their formation, like the jaws of a bloodthirsty carnivore slowly snapping shut. The elk were running straight for the ravine, where they would be funneled into single file.

Joseph was surprised to see a trio of megaloceros slip away from the trap. He quickly discovered the problem; there was a flaw in the wolves' formation. A direwolf on the right flank was limping from some old injury and was struggling to keep up with the rest of the pack. This left an opening where the elk could escape through. A steady trickle of megaloceros were already slipping past the injured wolf and bolting away into the tundra. Most of the herd had seen the opening and were making their way toward it. Joseph glanced down at Otto nervously. _I hope you know what you're doing,_ he thought to the limp body of his friend. If this failed, they would not get another chance for a while.

From his vantage point, Joseph saw Winter snarl impatiently and motion for Dust to take the centre position with a flick of his head. The beta direwolf quickly obeyed and took Winter's spot in the middle of the formation, while the white direwolf loped to the rapidly collapsing right flank. Winter's powerful legs flicked the snow a few times and within seconds, he was barrelling toward the opening as fast as he could. Joseph glanced at the megaloceros herd, only to find that three quarters of the elk had already escaped, and the last few beasts were almost free themselves.

Winter slammed into a young doe just as it was about to escape. The alpha direwolf closed the opening in time to prevent the rest of the herd from slipping away. Joseph exhaled in relief. He surveyed the situation with a sinking heart. The vast majority of the herd had escaped, but fortunately around a dozen elk remained trapped between the wolves. Joseph unslung his bow and nocked a tranq arrow to the string as the remaining megaloceros were funnelled into the ravine.

The elk thundered through the canyon, kicking up a cloud of snowy white powder behind them. As Joseph had predicted, the narrow walls of the ravine forced them into a single file line. He drew the tranq arrow to his ear and followed the path of the lead megaloceros, a huge buck with a shaggy brown coat. Joseph had set a tripwire in the ravine, hidden among the frozen shrubs a few paces ahead of Daven's position. The lead buck suddenly lurched, as if it had slammed into an invisible wall, and went crashing to the ravine floor.

Daven popped out from behind his boulder and hurled a net onto the downed elk. The beast struggled violently, lashing out with its hooves as it struggled to regain its footing. Joseph loosed his arrow, and the projectile lodged itself into the buck's exposed flank. Joseph immediately drew another arrow to his ear and aimed at the struggling elk. More megaloceros were running around the immobilized creature or leaping over it. Out of the corner of his eye, Joseph saw Daven hide behind his rock to avoid getting trampled as the elk thundered past. Joseph focused on his quarry and filled it with four more arrows before it finally slumped to the ground.

He quickly scanned the situation, only to realize how poorly the plan was going. Most of the elk had already passed, and only three were still running toward the trap. Daven was cowering behind his boulder and he had not managed to immobilize any other megaloceros.

"Damn it!" Joseph cursed at Daven's cowardice. _One elk is not enough. We'll have to freeze our asses off before we get another chance like this._

Without any warning, Daven suddenly leapt out from his cover directly into the path of the incoming megaloceros. A bola whirled in his hands, and he threw it at the closest elk. The doe's front legs snapped together, throwing the beast off balance. The elk went sprawling on the ground with a startled cry. It came to a stop just a few feet from Daven. The young man looked at the immobilized creature with a stunned expression on his face. Daven's head snapped up and his eyes widened. The last two elk were charging straight at him, their deadly antlers glistening in the sunlight.

Daven dropped to the ground and curled into a ball. Joseph knew he should start shooting the entangled megaloceros, but he could not take his eyes off Daven. Joseph hoped the young man would not get crushed or gored alive. He suddenly regretted all the harsh words he had exchanged earlier. Joseph had only wanted to prepare Daven for the cruelty of the Island, but perhaps now it would be too late to take his actions back.

The first buck charged at Daven, its antlers lowered. The elk's sharp appendages whistled past the huddled man, inches away from skewering his neck. The massive beast's hooves came thundering down an instant later, just short of crushing Daven alive. Joseph held his breath nervously as the second megaloceros approached. It leapt into the air a few feet ahead of Daven, it's heavy hooves sailing above his head with a hair's length to spare. Joseph sighed in relief as the elk landed a few meters behind Daven and continued charging down the ravine.

Daven's pale face poked out from his furs after the elk had passed. He looked shocked to be alive. Joseph shook his head, full of surprise, admiration, and respect for Daven's bravery. The young man's actions bordered on sheer stupidity, but he was still alive and had managed to ensnare another elk. Joseph quickly turned to the doe as it unsteadily stood up. The creature's front legs were still loosely tied together, but it would be free of the bola any second now.

Joseph loosed his arrow. His bow gave a sharp _twang_ as the projectile took flight. Joseph's arrow lodged itself into the doe's hindquarters a few moments later. The elk cried out in pain and lurched violently to the side, tossing its head. The wounded doe lashed out with its hooves and the bola strings snapped. It was free. Joseph drew another arrow to his ear and followed the elk as it galloped down the ravine. His second arrow flew straight and true. The narcotic-tipped projectile took its quarry in the flank. The door snorted in pain and crashed to the ravine floor. Joseph buried a third arrow into its back, and the doe finally collapsed unconscious.

Joseph whooped in victory, slung his bow over his shoulder, and rushed into the ravine. He scaled halfway down the canyon wall and jumped the rest of the way. Daven was still standing in the middle of the ravine, where he had nearly been trampled alive. Joseph scooped him up in a crushing embrace. He heard a few cracks and promptly dropped the scrawny man, a bit abashed. Joseph ruffled Daven's hair, grinning from ear to ear.

"That took a lot of bravery," Joseph praised. " You certainly surprised me. Aye, and those elk I'd wager!"

Daven still seemed shocked byhis reckless actions, but he was smiling nonetheless. Joseph turned to Otto, expecting him to join the celebration. He was surprised to see Otto heading the other way, with Winter following close behind. Joseph was curious to see what his friend had discovered, so he patted Daven on the shoulder, gently retrieved his tranq arrows from the unconscious elk, and followed the direwolf.

They came across an injured doe at the far end of the ravine. The poor creature had sprained her hind leg while trying to escape, and the limb stuck out at a grotesque angle. Even for a megaloceros, the doe was extraordinarily beautiful. She was long-limbed and elegant, with glossy golden fur and rich mahogany hooves. Her lustrous coat was dotted with white spots that resembled a starry constellation. The doe's huge dark eyes frantically darted about as she bleated in agony.

Otto kneeled on the icy ground to stroke her heaving flank. "She's in pain."

Joseph nocked an arrow to his bow. "One quick arrow should do the job. She won't feel a thing."

Otto shook his head. "Her leg looks bad but it can be saved. We'll take her to the Den."

"As you say," Joseph shrugged. He slung his bow over his shoulder and produced a tranq arrow. Joseph removed his fur gloves and ran his hand over the arrowhead, smearing the narcotic sludge onto his fingers. He used the green paste to sedate the wounded doe. It only took a few minutes for her eyes to close, and for the pain to leave her body.

Otto went to harness his direwolf team to the sled. Joseph called Daven over, and with some effort, they managed to haul the unconscious doe onto the wooden sleigh. She must have weighed a couple hundred pounds. Even then, she was light compared to the other doe, who weighed well over a ton. They had to wait for Otto to finish harnessing his wolves and help them carry her over. The huge buck was the greatest challenge. Otto positioned his sled directly beside the unconscious elk but even then it was difficult. In the end, they relied on wooden planks to lever the massive buck onto the sled. Joseph was red-faced and puffing from exertion by the time all three megaloceros were secured to the sleigh.

He climbed onto the back along with Daven. Otto took his seat at the front and flicked the reigns to get them moving. The wolves headed for the ravine entrance, panting as they pulled the sled uphill. The sleigh erupted onto the tundra in a plume of powdery snow. Otto angled the sled toward the Den and let his wolf pack take over. Soon enough, they were speeding along the wide open fields. Joseph watched the snow-capped trees and mountains zoom by in the distance until he finally closed his eyes and rested his head against the railing.

The sun was low in the sky by the time they returned to the Den. Otto parked the sled beside a holding pen they had constructed for the megaloceros. There was a small cliff that divided the Den in half, with the wolves inhabiting the lower portion and the humans living on top. The cliff was about ten feet tall, which was much higher than any megaloceros could hope to jump. The humans had used the cliff as one of the walls to the pen. The other three walls were built from a combination of wooden framework and heavy stones stacked on top of one another. The labour had taken the better part of a day, but with five pairs of hands, the humans made short work of the project.

Alys appeared from inside the wooden cabin atop the cliff. She beamed at the returning party and waved. "You're all finally back! It's about time too," Alys was halfway down the ramp that connected the upper and lower portions of the Den. She jumped the rest of the distance. "If I had known it would take an entire day for you to knock out some stinky old elk, I would have gone myself!"

"It wasn't as easy as you think," Otto protested as he unhitched his direwolf team.

"Oh, is that so?" Alys was a head shorter than Otto, yet she still managed to look intimidating next to him. "How hard could it possibly have been?"

"Well, let's see," Otto replied absentmindedly as he worked. "First we had to find the right area. That took a while. Then we had to set the trap. . ." Otto scrunched his brow as he struggled to unclasp a harness. "There were no elk nearby, so I used Winter to chase some back. After that. . . what happened again? Damn this buckle, it just won't come off!"

Otto scowled at the contraption, while Alys crossed her arms expectantly. She did not look impressed. Otto suddenly seemed to remember her challenge. "Shit, where was I again?" He turned to Daven and Joseph, and mouthed " _some help please_."

Joseph chuckled at his friend, while Daven jumped at the chance to join the conversation. "After that w-we hid in a ravine and waited. Waited for the elk, I mean. It took a f-few hours and it was r-really cold. Then we kn-knocked them out—"

"—You should have seen Daven!" Joseph cut in. He clapped the scrawny man on the back, grinning. "He leapt straight into the elk's path!"

Alysanne's unamused expression gave way to a look of shock. "Are you alright?"

"I'm f-fine," Daven replied dismissively. "Anyway, next we—"

"—Finally!" Otto exclaimed as he pried the harness free, much to the trapped wolf's delight.

Alys rolled her eyes. "Go on, Daven. I'd like to hear the rest."

"We knocked them out and b-brought them home," Daven finished hurriedly, looking around to make sure nobody else was about to interrupt him.

"Sounds like quite the adventure," Alys deadpanned sarcastically. A look of concern flashed across her face again. She turned to Joseph. "What's this about Daven jumping at the elk?"

"I'm sure Daven would like to elaborate about his deeds later tonight," Joseph grinned. His eyes wandered to a plume of smoke drifting from the cabin, and his smile faded. "How's the girl?"

Alys frowned and lowered her voice. "Truth be told, she isn't doing well. Willam looked through his book for all sorts of medicinal herbs. I cared for Clarisse while he went to retrieve some with Argentum."

"Did he find what he was looking for?"

"Yes, but I don't think it helped. Willam mashed the plants up in a bowl and fed the paste to her, but she still hasn't said a word and she spends most of her time staring out the window."

Joseph glanced at the cabin and saw that it was true. There was a pair of large brown eyes staring out from the window. Clarisse was not looking at him or anyone in particular. She was simply staring off into the distance with a blank look on her face.

Alys sighed. "We tried everything we could, but I think the damage is more mental than physical. Every survivor has a breaking point, and eventually something just _snaps_."

Otto came over to assess the situation. He glanced at the girl in the window and turned back to them. "Leave her be for now. She'll recover eventually. All we can do is take care of her until that moment."

Alys nodded solemnly. She turned to the sled and looked at its cargo. "We should really do something about those elk," she mused.

"Aye, I was getting to that," Otto said. "We'll get started, if you lot would be willing to lend your strength."

It took all four of them and a great deal of cursing to haul the unconscious elk into the pen. The buck was the hardest to move, for they had to be careful not to skewer themselves on its sharp antlers. It was only after a few intense minutes of grunting, cursing, and shouting that they dragged the heavy beast into the pen. The cacophony was enough to summon Willam, who poked his head out from the cabin door.

"What's all this commotion about?" The old man shouted down at them. Argentum, who had previously been asleep behind the cabin, growled and craned his neck to see.

"We just finished moving the elk into their pen," Otto replied. "Would you mind grabbing the grass we gathered earlier?"

Willam turned to comply but quickly flinched away when a pale figure blocked his path. Everyone was surprised to see Clarisse standing by the door with the grass bundled in her arms. She had short brown hair that cascaded just below her ears, and large dark eyes that gleamed in the light of dawn. Her cheeks were freckled, but aside from that, she was pale all over. Clarisse only wore a thin hide shirt and pants, but she did not seem bothered by the cold.

"You should not be outside like this, my young lady," Willam said in a gentle voice.

Clarisse slowly looked around the camp, taking everything in. Her eyes settled on the unconscious elk, who were beginning to stir. Clarisse seemed to come alive when she saw the creatures, for her eyes brightened up immediately. When she spoke, it was hardly more than a whisper, yet the words rang loud and clear, "I want to help."

With that, Clarisse descended the ramp and made her way toward the pen. The grass could not have weighed more than a few pounds, but her frail arms were trembling all the same. Otto rushed to help her, but she shouldered past him without so much as a glance. Clarisse did not push him very hard, but based on Otto's appalled expression you would think he had been pushed off a mountain.

Joseph could not help but burst out laughing at the young woman's nerve. She sat down and started soothing the elk without missing a beat. Clarisse hardly seemed to notice any of the others, for her attention was focused purely on the megaloceros.

"It looks like we've found someone to take care of the animals," Joseph grinned.

They left Clarisse like that, sitting in the dirt gently stroking the unconscious doe's neck and whispering at it reassuringly.

The great bonfire blazed high into the night sky. Brilliant tongues of flame swirled around, shifting from scarlet to gold, orange to crimson. The heavenly scent of pork stew drifted throughout the camp, and the sound of laughter echoed long into the night.

Joseph sat between Otto and Daven with a bowl of soup cupped in his hands. The other members of the expedition were recounting their earlier adventure in detail, much to Willam's fascination. Alys had her arms crossed on Daven's other side, and she rolled her eyes whenever someone exaggerated a detail of the story. Unfortunately, Clarisse had not joined them by the fire. She insisted on staying with the slowly recovering elk, despite everyone's protests. In the end, however, she accepted a bowl of soup and a hide blanket from Joseph though she remained firmly seated in the holding pen.

Otto was recalling how he scouted the tundra through Winter's eyes. The great white direwolf sat on his haunches beside Otto, gnawing on a haunch of phiomia. A few other wolves milled around in the darkness, just shy of the firelight. Many of them were still getting used to the humans, although a few individuals had gotten over their initial skepticisms. Spectre, the albino direwolf, ambled around the campfire looking for free handouts. Joseph offered the small wolf some of his stew, and Spectre gratefully lapped it up. The albino curled up by his feet and stayed there for a while, before getting up to search for his friend Argentum.

The young Tyrannosaurus loomed protectively behind Willam, crunching on some fresh kill he had dragged back earlier that night. When Spectre approached the great silver theropod, Argentum tore off a chunk of the carcass and dropped it at the albino's feet. The two beasts settled down to enjoy their respective meals by the fire.

Joseph finished the last of his soup and ladled a second helping into his bowl. He had just returned to his seat by the fire when Patches balanced himself on Daven's shoulder to get a better look at the stew. Joseph grinned at the otter and held the bowl up for him to inspect. The furry critter perched over the soup for a moment before darting in and fishing out a chunk of meat, all in the blink of an eye. Joseph chuckled at the otter's antics. _It looks like just about everyone is getting a taste of my soup tonight,_ he thought to himself.

Daven was just getting to the part where he leapt directly into the elk's path. Alys glanced at him with concern, but he only smiled at her reassuringly. After a moment of hesitation, she smiled back. Joseph thought that would be a good moment to praise the young man for his courage. He stood up and raised his bowl.

"To Daven, for his remarkable bravery! Here's to his victory!"

"To his victory!" The others echoed with their bowls raised.

Alys punched Daven's arm playfully. "My hero," she said laughing.

Daven's cheeks flushed red, which only elicited another round of laughter. Even the animals joined in, with their respective barks, growls, and chirps. Joseph glanced around the camp with a wide grin on his face. His friends were joking and laughing all around the fire. _I haven't seen this much joy since the megalosaurus attack. It feels good to smile again,_ he reflected.

 _Perhaps my suspicions were wrong this whole time_ , Joseph thought to himself. When Daven and Alys had first arrived at their camp, Joseph had urged Otto to turn them away, or better yet kill them then and there. He had originally been skeptical of taking strangers into their tribe and said as much to Otto. But now, Joseph was starting to see the value of having such a large group. It was certainly much easier to survive on a daily basis, and the pure joy of friendship could not be discounted either.

There had been a void in Joseph's life for the past few months, a gaping hole that was opened by the megalosaurus attack. Joseph had found safety and friendship in the old beachside base for the first time. The ferocious monsters of the night had ripped that peaceful life away from him with their vicious teeth and blood-stained claws. They had heartlessly butchered Hawk and Sarah, and left him and his friends on the brink of death. Joseph had been left empty inside after the attack, a husk of who he had formerly been. For months afterward, he had been too caught up in his own suffering to speak with his friends. He had withdrawn from Otto and Willam almost entirely, and that was completely unforgivable. His friends had been there to share his grief all along, but he had never realized. Now Joseph understood the error of his ways. He had opened up once more, and that void within him was finally being filled by the arrival of the new survivors.

 _Maybe I was wrong after all,_ Joseph thought. _There's so much to be gained from accepting new survivors into our group. I just needed someone to open my eyes to the wonders of humanity._

The heavenly scent of pork stew was already fading away as the last few drops were emptied from the pot, but the great bonfire and the sound of laughter echoed long into the night, and Joseph felt whole for the first time in months.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Raimon, haha glad to hear you enjoyed it! And I respond to everyone who leaves a review, so you can look forward to that as well.**

 **Blueberrium, I'm happy to hear that you're enjoying Daven as a character. The underdog definitely needs some love. As for what I have planned. . . all in good time, my friend :)**

 **King Endercreeper, good to hear from you as well! As always, thank you for the kind comments and support it really means a lot to me. Anyway, I'm glad to hear that you're enjoying my writing! Hopefully this longer chapter met your expectations**

 **Guest, thanks and we got some new tames in this chapter!  
**

 **kittenofanarchy, thank you for your kind praise!**

 **Changeling Man, thank you for the review, I'm glad to hear you enjoyed Daven's character. As for the error, I went back and checked. It might not be clear to the reader, but I was indeed referring to the bull-horned carnotaurus. Just keep in mind that the chapters are written from the character's perspectives; their thoughts, their feelings, their interpretations. Alys simply thought Argentum was a carno at the time, just as Willam currently thinks Argentum is a "rex." Oops I went off on a tangent, but you get the idea. Thanks for the great question! I hope I cleared some things up  
**

 **The Dweeb 4252, thanks for the continued support, I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter!**

 **SoulEater841, thanks I'm glad you enjoyed revisiting the story!**

 **Thanks for taking the time to check out my first fanfiction, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I will try my best to upload as regularly as possible. Feel free to comment, ask question or criticize my story, review is always welcome. And i** **f you like what you saw, make sure to check out the other ARK: Survival Evolved fanfictions out there. Have a great rest of your day or night.**

 **-DaRumpyBurr**


	19. Otto VIII

**Otto VIII**

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The shelter was empty, as the other three had been. Otto frowned at the dismal sight. The supplies inside were missing, but no doubt that was the work of some wild varmint. Pegomastax, if he had to judge by the footprints on the beach. _That's another shelter that needs to be restocked,_ Otto noted to himself. _We'll need to stop by this one later tonight with fresh supplies._

So far the rescue operation was not going as planned. Otto had already stopped by three other shelters but none of them harboured any castaways. Unfortunately, one of the lean-tos had been trampled to the ground by some ungainly creature. Worse still, another had sustained damage from a pack of hungry carnivores. The wooden shelter had been covered in deep gouges and claw marks. Judging by the trail of blood that snaked into the jungle, the predators had gotten whoever was hiding inside the structure. Otto shook his head in dismay and left the empty abode as he had found it.

Daciana was waiting for him outside. She lifted her head from a patch of grass and _mewed_ at him in greeting. The golden doe trotted over and nuzzled his chest with her head. Otto smiled and stroked her neck. He had found Daciana injured with a sprained leg at the back of a ravine when Joseph, Daven and himself had journeyed north to tame megaloceros. Fortunately, she had recovered from her injury within a week and was rehabilitated with the help of Otto and Clarisse. Now she was better than ever and served as his personal mount.

The other two megaloceros were currently unclaimed, though fully domesticated and well-trained. It had taken a few days of hand-feeding the elk, nursing their injuries, and grooming their fur for them to trust the humans. The huge buck had been particularly difficult to tame as it seemed to be naturally predisposed against humans, and lashed out with its hooves and antlers whenever someone tried to feed it. Clarisse was the one who finally befriended the massive elk, after painstaking hours of gaining its trust through gestures of kindness. Afterwards, the buck had been much more inclined to trust the other members of the group. The older doe had been wary and skittish, but Clarisse eventually domesticated it as well. The girl seemed to have a natural gift for befriending animals that even Otto was envious of. Clarisse was shy and frightened of violence, yet all her fears seemed to melt away whenever she was caring for an animal. She hardly spoke at all, yet the creatures seemed to have a way of understanding her on an intimate level, akin to Otto's own bond with Winter.

All their domesticated creatures sought Clarisse's company for comfort, and she welcomed them with open arms. Otto had been especially surprised to see Clarisse getting along with the wolves. Every other survivor in their group, himself included, had been frightened of the bloodthirsty carnivores at some point. Even after months of living with the direwolves, Joseph and Willam were still a bit on-edge. Alys always kept a hand on her dagger whenever she was outside, and Daven had nearly soiled his breeches when he bumped into a wolf by accident the other day. Clarisse was an entirely different matter. She never showed any signs of fear whenever the great predators were nearby, and Otto was astounded by her ability to befriend the wolves. Some of them even curled up beside her like lap-dogs, which they never did for anyone else.

Whenever Otto tried to talk to Clarisse, she instantly went pale and froze like a petrified statue. It never ceased to amaze him that Clarisse could be so calm with the deadliest predators of the north, yet afraid of other humans. After a few failed attempts at getting to know the new survivor, Otto gave up and left her alone. She seemed to prefer it better that way. The animals were already company enough for her. Indeed, she hardly ever visited the cabin or any other part of their base. Clarisse preferred to stay in the holding pen, where they kept the megaloceros. She even stayed in the pen overnight, when the temperature could dip well below freezing. Otto had sent Willam to check up on Clarisse the first time she had failed to return to the cabin for the night. The old man came back to report that she would not budge from her position, wedged between two of the sleeping elk. Otto simply shook his head and brought the stubborn girl a fur blanket to keep herself warm overnight.

The next day, Otto gathered up his friends and upgraded the holding pen into a makeshift stable, complete with a sheltered alcove for Clarisse to call her own. She did not say anything to them but Otto could tell she was secretly pleased. The megaloceros enjoyed the stable as well, since it kept them warm and sheltered from the worst of the elements. There were three pens in the stable, one for each of the elk. The megaloceros returned to their pens at night, though they spent most of the day outside. They grazed on patches of grass or wandered around the plains when they were not being trained. Otto always ordered someone to keep an eye on the creatures, in case they decided to escape. Daciana was perfectly content with her new life because she lived in safety and comfort with the humans, unlike before in the wild when every day was a struggle for survival. The other two megaloceros seemed domesticated enough, but Otto would not risk losing any of them.

Daciana was the youngest and smallest of the three elk they had tamed, but the fastest by far. Otto had a feeling that she could outrun any creature on the Island. It had taken some training and a custom-built saddle to ride the elk but Otto was glad he had put in the effort. Riding around the coast atop Daciana's back was an amazing experience comparable to his wolf dreams. Otto thought he had known speed when loping across the tundra through Winter's eyes, but Daciana took speed to a whole new level. She could run for twice as long as any direwolf, and left the whole pack in the dust when it came to sheer speed. Otto was not a very talented rider and had trouble keeping his balance atop the doe's back. He often fell from Daciana's saddle but fortunately the sandy beach was soft enough to cushion the impact. Otto had no doubt that he would break a few bones if he ever fell on the icy terrain of the north.

Otto put his foot on the saddle stirrups and swung himself onto Daciana's back. The doe tossed her head as she adjusted to his weight. Otto spurred the elk into a trot down the beach with a gentle nudge. The wolves accompanying him were nowhere in sight, but Otto could sense their presence nearby. Sure enough, Winter and four of his pack appeared from the undergrowth a few moments later. They instinctively knew it was time to head toward the next base and started loping down the coast. Daciana followed the pack at a steady gait.

Otto wondered how the other patrols were going. He had sent Joseph closer to home with an escort of direwolves led by Dust, the beta male. The large man was riding the megaloceros buck they had tamed, a fine powerful specimen that weighed well over a ton. The elk had a massive rack of antlers that could skewer flesh like a knife through butter. Like himself, Joseph was supposed to inspect seven shelters for the day. They had built twenty shelters in total, so the best way to cover them all was to divide them amongst three riders. Joseph was patrolling closest to the Den, Otto was in the middle, and Alys was riding further down the coast. The three of them had been the natural choices to lead the patrols since they also happened to be the most skilled fighters. The coast was a dangerous place where anything could happen within a moment's notice. Otto needed capable fighters to look out for the new survivors and rescue them from any danger that might threaten their lives.

He had sent Alys to patrol the six shelters furthest from the Den. Ever since they tamed the elk, Alys had proven herself to be an exceptional rider. It was almost as if she had been born to ride. Otto had never once seen her fall off the saddle, even on the first day when everyone was new to riding. Every single person that tried to mount an elk ended up on the ground, except for Alys who kept her balance perfectly. It was for Alysanne's remarkable riding talent that Otto had sent her to patrol furthest down the coast. She was mounted on the other doe they had tamed, a much older female with years of experience surviving in the wild. Shina and a few other direwolves were with Alys for protection.

Otto and his friends had been patrolling the coast for two days now. So far, none of them had found any new survivors that needed to be rescued. Just broken shelters, corpses, and dangerous wildlife. Otto hoped this entire operation would not turn out to be for naught. He had dedicated countless resources toward funding the project; nearly a month of constructing shelters; a few weeks of stockpiling rations and basic necessities for the new castaways; a few weeks taming, training, and saddling the megaloceros, and nearly all the pack's strength patrolling the coast. The direwolves were stretched so thin that there were barely enough left at home to guard the Den. So far, the rescue project had not come to fruition but Otto still had hope. If they could help even a single survivor, then all this trouble would be worth it.

Otto had enough complications for one day. He decided not to dwell on what the future had in store for him. Instead, he closed his eyes and savoured the moment. The sea breeze buffeted his golden-brown hair, tossing it wildly about him. The sun embraced him with its soothing warmth, like an old friend he had not seen in years. Otto's eyes flared open and he savoured the sensation of speeding down the coast, the sights, the smells, the feelings. He glanced around the beach, where skittish herbivores quickly fled at the sight of his pack. The jungle trees shifted and swayed with the breeze, and strange cries echoed throughout the woods. Otto relaxed and let his worries melt away.

Unfortunately, his care-free ride did not last much longer. Otto spotted the next shelter up ahead, and it was in a far worse condition than the previous four. A gaping hole yawned open on one side of the shelter, splintered wooden planks flanking the cavity. The entire structure was dented and broken in areas, as if some large carnivore had repeatedly slammed into the structure until it finally tore a hole into the wall. His wolves quickly surrounded the lean-to and started sniffing about. Otto dismounted Daciana and went to inspect the grisly scene.

Fortunately, there was no corpse inside the shelter. It was always disheartening to find a body, especially when he had to bury it afterwards. Otto always wondered whether he could have saved the deceased castaway if he had left the Den a few hours earlier. There was no blood inside either, but an entranceway yawned open as if someone had kicked down a section of the wall in their haste to escape. It was opposite from the gaping crater that the invader had smashed in, so Otto had reason to believe the shelter's occupant had gotten away. Otto vowed to investigate further and see whether the castaway had escaped or met their end. He had some vague notion about the direction the survivor had fled in but there was only one way to know for sure.

Otto closed his eyes and after a few seconds of darkness he was suddenly outside the smashed wooden den, sniffing the ground and turning over debris with his sensitive snout. His nostrils flared as he inhaled the scent of man and stag and wolf, but above those loomed the overbearing stench of bull-tyrant. He sniffed the air again and realized it was not one but two. A mated pair. The odour was fresh and it emanated from the jungle. His packmates had noticed it as well. Great grey, mud-brown, and the golden twins were circling around the wooden den impatiently, lashing their tails in the direction of the rainforest.

He blinked and found himself inside his own body a moment later. The rancid stench of carnotaurus was still sharp in Otto's mind. _They attacked the shelter not too long ago. Perhaps there's still a chance to save that castaway._ He shook his head and made up his mind. Without a second to spare, Otto jogged out of the broken lean-to and swung himself onto Daciana's back. Having sensed his decision, Winter led his pack into the jungle to hunt down the carnotaurus. Otto flicked Daciana's reigns and she followed.

The dense undergrowth was hard to navigate but Otto trusted Daciana's instincts and let her choose the way. She leapt over fallen logs and darted around imposing boulders, careful to avoid the thick green vines that swung overhead. The nimble doe was forced to slow down, lest she stumble over the vegetation and send them both sprawling on the ground. Otto kept his eyes on the undergrowth ahead, where he would occasionally catch brief glimpses of the wolves. The thick canopy overhead left the jungle dark and gloomy, but Otto could still see every detail of the forest as if it were day. The effects of his powers would not linger much longer, so Otto savoured his enhanced senses while they lasted.

He could still smell the carnotaurus amongst a plethora of other scents but the smell was fading even as he drew closer to the monsters. Otto was beginning to have second thoughts about his rash decision to pursue the beasts but now was not the time to doubt himself, especially since another human's life was at stake. Realistically, Otto knew his wolves would be hard-pressed to fight even a single bull-horned lizard. The monstrosities could weigh up to three tons, which outweighed Otto, Daciana, and all his wolves put together. Every carnotaurus was equipped with a pair of deadly horns on its head, which they used to skewer and bash prey into bloody pulps. They were capable of quick but deadly bites, with jaws strong enough to tear a human's flesh right off the bone. As if that were not enough, the deadly carnivores were covered in thick scaly hides that his wolves and spear would have trouble penetrating.

Otto would have been perfectly confident if the whole pack had been with him, or ten wolves at the very least. He was stuck with half that number. He had no doubts about the direwolves' predatorial capabilities but they were no simply no match for a mated pair of carnotaurus. His plan was to separate the beasts and finish them off individually. Or if that failed, he could at least attempt to draw them away from the castaway. Anything aside from a head-on confrontation would be favourable.

Otto was almost there. He sensed the carnotaurus nearby, and they were not alone by the sounds of it. Otto wrapped his arms around Daciana's neck and hooked his legs into the saddle stirrups. He had not practiced this trick very much, but it was straightforward enough. He would be fine as long as he did not fall off the saddle and break his neck. Otto closed his eyes and after a few seconds of concentration he was suddenly up ahead, darting through the undergrowth with his pack.

The jungle came to life around him; the vivid green shrubs and earthy scent of mud, the smell of monkeys hiding in the canopy and the sounds of insects chirping in the air. He felt life all around himself, things he could never have detected in his own body. He risked a glance behind himself and saw Daciana's vague form following the pack, with a lump heaped on her back. _It worked_ , a part of him whispered. He shook his head and focused his attention before him. He sniffed the air as he loped along, and the scent came back stronger than ever. Two bull-horns and a frightened human were very close ahead. The monsters had left a trail of destruction in their wake. He leapt over splintered logs and trampled shrubs, following the heavy-set tracks in the damp black mud.

He barreled through a thick green bush and found himself staring at two massive bull-horns, who had not yet noticed him. The brutes had their backs turned to him and they stood a few paces away, snarling at some trembling creature they had cornered on a steep incline. The bull-horns were trying to clamber up the hillside but the slope was too steep for them, and rocks cascaded down every time they tried to climb. One of the beasts noticed him and turned to growl, a deep guttural sound that rumbled from its throat. There was suddenly no time to think and he charged headlong at the monstrosity, his packmates close behind.

Otto blinked to life on Daciana's back, in his own body. He glanced up ahead and saw Winter loping toward one of the carnotaurus, a large dark green female that towered over her mate. Two of Winter's packmates had already joined their alpha, and the three wolves charged at the female together. The male carnotaurus was hesitant to leave the cornered human but turned to help his mate. Otto's two remaining direwolves noticed the bull attempting to join the female. Without a moment's delay, the wolves sprinted to intercept the carnotaurus before the two monsters could reunite.

A great grey direwolf pounced at the lumbering male, snarling with vigour. The bull swung his head to meet the mammal and caught it on the flank. There was a thunderous _crack_ as the carnotaurus headbutted the poor wolf. The grey direwolf went flying from the impact and crashed into a tree hard enough to topple some branches over. The wolf rolled onto the muddy ground, leaving streaks of blood on the trunk. Two gaping red gashes yawned open from where the bull's horns had dug into its side.

The second wolf, a golden male named Apollo, dove to the right of the carnotaurus. The cumbersome titan slowly whirled around to face the direwolf. Apollo pressed his attack and charged in, locking his muscular jaws around the monster's haunches. The enraged bull roared in pain and craned its neck around to snap at the wolf. Apollo's distraction left the monster's throat completely exposed.

Otto spurred Daciana into a full gallop and drew his spear, levelling it at the bull as Daciana thundered into battle. The carnotaurus shifted to face him at the very last second, ruining his clean kill. Otto tried to reposition his spear at the monster's neck but it was already too late. The wicked bone spearhead took the bull in the shoulder with a sickening _crunch_. The carnotaurus roared in pain as the wooden shaft snapped in half. Blood erupted from the monster's wound in angry red spurts. Otto shielded his eyes from the sickly red rain as Daciana galloped past the roaring tyrant. He whirled the megaloceros around and saw that a foot of slick red spearhead protruded from the other end of the bull's shoulder.

Otto glanced down at the jagged wooden pole in his hand and tossed it aside. The carnotaurus lurched toward him unsteadily, its bloodshot eyes gleaming with vengeance. The monster was so focused on him that it failed to notice the direwolf right behind it. Apollo lunged at the bull and clung to its thick tail with a mighty snarl. The startled carnotaurus nearly careened into a tree from the wolf's unexpected assault.

The bull fought furiously as Apollo sunk his jaws into its hindquarters. The carnotaurus lashed its tail violently and swung its head back and forth in a vain attempt to dislodge the wolf. Otto risked a glance at the injured grey wolf to find that it had regained its footing. The direwolf's thick grey fur was soaked with blood but that only seemed to make it angrier. With a snarl, the injured wolf shambled toward the fight. It stayed safely behind the carnotaurus, striking at its legs and ducking aside whenever the beast turned to retaliate. The carnotaurus roared and spun around in a large circle, trying without much success to dislodge its two attackers. A steady stream of blood trickled from the spear lodged in its shoulder. The monster would tire out and bleed to death eventually. It was only a matter of time.

The beast whirled around again and suddenly seemed to notice Daciana. The carnotaurus narrowed its bloodthirsty eyes and snorted. Daciana whickered and Otto rested a hand on her neck to steady her. The carnotaurus bull wasted no time in charging, its bloody jaws gaping for retribution. Otto spun Daciana around but kept her in place. He could feel the vibrations of the carnotaurus thundering closer with every heartbeat but he did not spur his mount forward. He closed his eyes and waited for the perfect moment to strike. . .

 _Now!_

Otto gave the signal and Daciana immediately lashed out with her hind legs. The doe's deadly hooves took the carnotaurus full in the neck, pushing the broken spear deeper in. Daciana nimbly leapt away as the carnotaurus gasped for breath and lurched forward. The monster grunted in distress and blood spewed out from its mouth. It tried to flee but collapsed to the ground with a booming _thud_ that echoed throughout the jungle.

The two direwolves finished the carnotaurus off before its blood was even cold. Otto whirled Daciana around to face the female, only to be met with a gruesome scene. The she-devil had already bashed one of his wolves into a bloody pulp. Huge chunks of its neck and underbelly had been torn clean off. Long pink snakes were dangling from the direwolf's underside, drenched in a pool of crimson. All the blood and entrails made it hard to tell who the corpse belonged to. Otto spotted patches of brown fur and immediately knew that the mud brown direwolf would never return to the Den again. The brown wolf's carcass was heaped beneath the female carnotaurus' feet. The monster was currently circling with Winter and Apollo's twin sister, Artemis.

Otto was filled with rage at the sight of the bloody direwolf. The monster had taken a member of his own pack and he would make her suffer for her atrocities. He spurred Daciana into a full gallop and let loose a war-cry as the giant elk thundered into the fray. Otto drew his sabertooth dagger from his belt and shifted it to his right hand, bunching Daciana's reigns in his left hand. The carnotaurus was too busy roaring at Winter and Artemis to notice the megaloceros charging from behind. Otto slammed his deadly blade into the she-devil's hindquarters and dragged it along her flank as Daciana galloped past. The female screeched in pain as blood spurted from the fresh cut.

Otto turned around to get a good look at his new opponent. The female carnotaurus was much larger and bulkier than her deceased mate. She was at least a head taller than the male and must have weighed close to 3 tons. The female was completely armoured in green scales and she boasted dark green stripes that blended perfectly into the jungle foliage. An angry red canyon yawned open on her flank, from where Otto had ran his dagger along her side. Dark red blood seeped from the wound. The direwolves were emboldened by the sight of fresh blood and they attacked with renewed vigour. Winter and Artemis attacked from the flanks, while Apollo and great grey circled behind to attack from the rear.

Winter threw his head back and howled before lunging at the she-devil with his teeth bared. The other three direwolves charged from every angle with ferocious snarls. Outnumbered and overwhelmed, the female carnotaurus could not hope to fight a battle on four fronts. She shifted her weight and lowered her body as the four wolves closed in. As sudden as a snake, the monster lunged forward and snatched a direwolf from the air. It was Apollo, Otto realized. He was helpless to do anything but watch as the golden wolf was wrenched upward, flailing for his life.

Winter and the others tried to rescue their ensnared packmate but to no avail. The female carnotaurus simply shrugged them off or lashed her muscular tail to keep them at bay. She shook her head from side to side, whirling Apollo around like a limp ragdoll. The she-devil suddenly snapped her head down and slammed the wolf at her feet. Apollo was disoriented and confused but he scrambled to limp away as soon as he was free. His escape attempt was dashed into the ground by a massive three-clawed foot.

The female carnotaurus planted a foot on the injured direwolf's back and shifted her weight. There was a mighty crack as three tons of bloodthirsty carnotaurus pressed down on the wolf. Apollo yelped in agony as the titan bore down on him with all her weight. The direwolf's back screamed out in protest again and Otto was sure something had snapped. The jungle demon raised another foot to crush Apollo's head.

Winter and his two remaining wolves pounced at the last second and sent the carnotaurus staggering under their combined weight. The demon shook her head and turned to finish her cornered prey but the wolves interposed themselves in her path, barking and growling. They forced the monster back a step, and then another. It was actually working. _There's a chance to save Apollo,_ Otto thought to himself. He gathered Daciana's reigns and plunged his steed into the fray.

His dagger flashed toward the devil's underbelly but she swung her head and Daciana swerved to avoid her deadly horns. Otto nearly dropped his weapon as the giant elk lurched away. He dug his heels into Daciana's side and circled her around. Otto brandished his dagger and charged, only for the carnotaurus to lash her tail and drive him away once again.

"Damn it," Otto growled. He could not get in close enough to deal any damage. If he still had his spear, it would have been a different story. But his spear was broken in half and he was stuck with just his dagger.

Winter and great grey were harassing the beast's flanks, much to her annoyance. She grunted and snarled, snapping at them whenever they got too close but the wolves were too nimble for her to catch. Artemis was hunched protectively over her injured twin, snarling and barking whenever the battle came too close. Her brother Apollo sprawled on the floor at an unnatural position. Otto could tell the direwolf was in immense pain just from a glance.

Something suddenly flew right past Otto. He turned to see a grey direwolf skid into the mud, its paws flailing. Great grey clambered to his feet and growled but his cry was cut in half as a set of bloody jaws clamped around his windpipe. The carnotaurus wrenched her head back and took the direwolf's throat in a spray of crimson.

Dark sickly blood gushed from the grey direwolf's shredded neck. He pawed at the air and tried to whimper but ended up choking on his own blood. Otto watched as the life drained from the wolf's frightened blue eyes.

Vengeance and fury swirled within Otto as he turned to face the carnotaurus who had done so much damage to his pack. She swung her head around lazily and glared right back at him with her piercing yellow eyes. Otto kicked Daciana into a gallop and raised his dagger above his head. The megaloceros doe hurtled toward the monster with an incredible burst of speed that threw Otto back in his saddle. He locked his legs around the saddle stirrups and let loose a battlecry. Otto waited for the perfect moment and suddenly thrust his blade into the monster's underbelly. She stumbled back and roared in agony, blood spurting from the wound. Daciana darted between her legs and started galloping away when some impossibly heavy object slammed into her flank. Perhaps it was the demon's tail, but Otto would never know.

His world went spinning as he was thrown from the saddle. Otto was rushing toward the sky one moment and the ground the next. Blue and brown swirled throughout his vision until he crashed into something with enough force to knock all the breath from his lungs.

Otto tried to draw another breath but he doubled over coughing, choking, gagging. Everything was blurry and flashes of color swam before his eyes. Blue then green, then brown, and blue again. There was a dull hum that blanketed the rest of the world. Otto could only hear the sound of his own laboured lungs as they fought to keep him breathing. He managed to roll over onto his back. Or was it his stomach? He pushed himself off the hard black ground and spat mud and blood from his mouth. His vision was starting to focus. He looked around frantically until his eyes landed on some massive shape that blotted out the sun.

The female carnotaurus loomed above him. Blood dripped from her jaws, fresh from her previous kills. Rotten chunks of flesh clung to her yellow teeth, emanating a foul odour that choked the air. It smelled like death. The monster chuffed and lashed her tail. Otto refused to allow himself to be killed by some overgrown lizard. He glanced around frantically, looking for something, _anything_ that could save him. His dagger was nowhere to be seen. Daciana was sprawled on her side, struggling to get up after the impact. Artemis and Winter were charging at the carnotaurus but they were too far away. The wolves would never save him in time.

Otto turned to fix his glare on the carnotaurus. He moved slowly, with deliberation and resignation. He wondered if Winter and Artemis would keep fighting after he was gone, or if they would wisely flee. _Run, get out of here, go!_ He wanted to shout. They were no match for the monster, Otto could see that now. It had been a suicidal idea to attack the two carnotaurus. At the very least, he had saved a castaway from the brutes. That almost made it worthwhile. But now Otto would pay the ultimate price. He would lose his life and then his wolves. He sighed and closed his eyes, listening to the dull _thud_ of his heartbeat and waiting for the world to go silent.

There was the sound of death. But it was not the sound of jaws snapping shut as Otto had expected. It was the sound of something huge stampeding straight for him. His eyes flared open, just in time to see a massive boulder tumbling down a rocky slope. It rolled straight toward him and the monster, gaining momentum as it crashed down. The boulder careened off smaller rocks, shifting left then right. From his peripheral vision, Otto saw his wolves turn around and flee from the force of nature. Daciana bounded to her feet and galloped away, leaving him alone with the carnotaurus.

The demon knew it was coming too. She abandoned him and tried to flee but it was already too late. Just before crushing Otto alive, the boulder hit a small rock and vaulted into the air. It slammed into the carnotaurus with a thunderous _crack_ that would put any thunderstorm to shame. The devil was thrown to the ground, roaring in pain. The massive boulder rolled over her, eliciting another ear-splitting screech. It crashed into an ancient jungle tree, snapping the trunk in half with an explosive _crunch_! The boulder slammed into a second tree and finally shattered into a dozen smaller chunks.

The carnotaurus was heaped on her side, growling and snarling in pain. One of her legs was twisted at a grotesque angle. Her tail was bent crookedly and most of her ribcage was smashed in. She writhed around in the mud, blinded by pain. Otto almost felt bad for her. His wolves finished her off quickly. It seemed like a mercy as her eyes slowly closed, and her agony-riddled body went still.

Otto picked himself off the ground and rested a hand on Winter for support. He glanced up the hill to see where to boulder came from. A short muscular man stood at the top of the cliff, his face flushed red from exertion. _It's the castaway that the carnotaurus were chasing,_ Otto remarked to himself. The man had dislodged the boulder, Otto knew at once. He bowed his head in gratitude.

The man made his way down the cliff. He was much shorter than Otto, but very muscular. His arms were as thick as small trees, and his shoulders were nearly as broad as the boulder he had pushed. He had a strong squarish face and a fierce brown beard. The man looked as if he could wrestle Joseph to the ground with one arm tied behind his back.

"Thank you," The man rumbled. His voice was as deep and course as a mountain. "I owe you my life."

Otto winced as pain flooded into his bruised body. "I should be thanking you. I would have been done for, if you hadn't pushed that boulder."

"That's a load of nonsense. I was dead meat 'til you attacked with your wolves. Once again, I thank you. The name's Maron. At your service, m'lord."

"That's the first time anyone's called me a lord," Otto managed to laugh despite the pain. "No, I'm a survivor like you. Please just call me Otto. And you have no need to thank me, I was just doing my duty."

"You still saved m'life and I'll be grateful forever." Maron bowed.

"I barely did anything," Otto said. "You should thank the wolves."

His heart sank as he thought about his pack. Otto turned to survey the damage. Two of his direwolves were already dead; great grey was missing his throat, and the muddy brown wolf had been disemboweled. Apollo was slumped on the floor, whimpering in pain. Otto could immediately tell the golden wolf was beyond saving. Apollo's spine had been shattered when the carnotaurus stepped on his back and he was paralyzed in place. The poor direwolf would never be able to walk again.

Willam would be able to save Apollo's life, Otto knew. The old man was skilled with medicinal herbs and he was the closest thing to a healer they had. Besides, Apollo was not in any immediate danger of passing away. _I could save Apollo if I bring him back to the Den. But at what cost?_ The direwolf was paralyzed and he would never be able to hunt with the pack again. Apollo would be nothing but a burden to his packmates. Winter would never leave one of his closest friends to fend for himself, yet even then Apollo would become a shell of his former self. The pack could still provide Apollo with the food and shelter to survive, but spending the rest of his life crippled was no way to live at all.

The golden direwolf already seemed to know this. Everything about the way he acted suggested that he would never return to the Den. Apollo had already accepted his fate. The poor wolf would rather die than spend the rest of his life crippled and helpless. Winter padded over to his paralyzed packmate and pressed his head against him as a sign of affection. Otto watched from a distance, recalling the time he had lived through Winter's memories. Apollo had been one of Winter's guardians and first friends. The two direwolves had shared many adventures throughout their lives. Apollo had remained loyal to Winter's family even after a new alpha had taken over the pack. He was one of Winter's closest and most trusted companions, right until the very end.

Winter backed away and Artemis padded over. She regarded her brother for a moment before nuzzling her head against his chest. Apollo whimpered as his sister showered him in affection. The twins remained like that for a small eternity before Artemis finally backed away. She threw back her head and howled. It was a long and mournful song that brought a tear to Otto's eye. Winter and Apollo joined their voices to the cry and the three wolves howled together.

Otto found his sabertooth dagger lying in the mud. He wiped the bloodstained blade on his hide leggings until it gleamed. He pressed a finger to the dagger and noted with satisfaction that the blade was sharp. The least he could do was provide Apollo with a swift clean death.

Otto kneeled next to the golden wolf and stroked his fur for a while. The paralyzed direwolf whimpered under his touch. Apollo closed his eyes and Otto put him out of his misery. He sheathed his dagger, wiped the tears from his eyes and stood up. It pained Otto to see his wolves suffer. They were his pack and they were all a part of him, in some way or another. He could sense when they were happy, when they were sad or angry, and most of all when they were in pain. It felt as if a part of him died with every wolf, even the ones he had not gotten to know very well. Otto could not imagine what it would feel like to lose Winter and he hoped he would never have to find out.

Fortunately, the great white direwolf seemed relatively unscathed except for a few scratches and claw marks on his coat. Artemis was also unharmed, although her twin brother had not been as lucky. The two surviving wolves padded over to him and nuzzled him affectionately. Otto smiled, relieved that they had made it out alive and well. His smile quickly soured when he glanced back at the three dead wolves.

They buried the fallen beasts near a thick tree. Winter and Artemis dug up shallow graves, while Otto and Maron piled dirt on top of their bodies. The whole process took about an hour. Otto was anxious to get out of the jungle before anything else attacked them, so they rushed to bury the wolves. The graves were not ideal but they would serve to keep most predators away from the corpses.

Otto turned to Maron when they were done. "Do you have any plans after this?"

The muscular man shook his head. "I've only been here for a few days. Guess I'll just stay out of trouble and try to keep low. Hopefully I'll never need to deal with those things again."

Otto sighed. "Knowing this cruel world, you'll probably have to deal with something much worse." He paused and looked at the broken boulder rubble, then back at Maron's muscular arms. "You seem capable enough to survive. How did you get so strong anyhow?"

"I'm a blacksmith, m'lord. Or at least I was 'til I ended up here. I can't remember much about my life or how I washed up, but I'm no stranger to intensive work."

Otto nodded. "It's perfectly normal. Not many people remember their pasts. But you said you're a blacksmith?"

"Aye. Well, I'm not much of a smith without my tools but I'll scrape by."

"I can certainly help with that. Would you like to work for me? I'll provide you with food, shelter and all the tools you need."

"That sounds too good to be true," Maron chuckled. "Gladly."

Otto smiled. "Welcome to the tribe. Our camp is up north, but that should be a nice change for once. There aren't any jungles where we live."

"There's other people living with you?"

"Six right now. You'll make seven."

"Perfect," Maron grinned. "I'm ready when you are."

Otto whistled for Daciana and the doe came trotting over. She had a few scratches from crashing into a bush, but she was otherwise unharmed. Otto helped Maron onto the saddle. The doe was strong enough to carry them both, but Otto had to do one more thing before they left.

He kneeled next to the three graves. "I'll be back for you," he promised. "I'll return with the sled and bring all of you to the Den, where you belong. We'll bury you by that spruce grove overlooking the tundra."

Otto found three boulder fragments and placed one on top of each of the graves. "I will return," he vowed. "Goodbye until then."

Otto swung himself onto Daciana's saddle and took the reins. Maron sat behind him, gripping the saddle for dear life. Winter and Artemis bounded off into the bushes. Otto flicked Daciana's reins and they were swallowed by the dense green foliage.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **The Dweeb 4252, I'm glad to hear that you're enjoying the story! Although we didn't see much of the new human characters this chapter, the next one will have a lot more character interactions and we'll get to know some of the newbies better.**

 **Girlbook, I hope this chapter answered a few questions about her story. There's a bit more next chapter**

 **Blueberrium, Haha don't worry I'm done killing characters for a while ;)**

 **Changeling Man, Nice to hear that you enjoyed the last chapter! The tribe doesn't have a name and probably won't for some time. I guess they could distinguish themselves as one of the few northern tribes on the Island and that's probably how other groups would refer to them. Also thanks for that information about the carnotaurus. I never knew that before! Anyway, thanks for the review and I hope to hear from you again.**

 **kittenofanarchy, lmao I was hoping no one would catch that. Let's just say umm it was a very thick blanket. Yea, that's it. . .**

 **Verdauga, Thanks for all the reviews! I don't know if you've caught up to this part of the story yet but thank you for the continued support**

 **ShadowKing92, Thanks as always and I hope you enjoyed!**

 **Toilsome, hmmm the happy ending? Maybe, just maybe :)**

 **Thanks for taking the time to check out my first fanfiction, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I will try my best to upload as regularly as possible. Feel free to comment, ask question or criticize my story, review is always welcome. And i** **f you like what you saw, make sure to check out the other ARK: Survival Evolved fanfictions out there. Have a great rest of your day or night.**

 **-DaRumpyBurr**


	20. Willam IV

**Willam IV**

* * *

The Den had changed dramatically since Willam had first arrived. He could not decide whether the change was for better or worse. Whereas before The Den had been surrounded by vast open plains, now it felt cramped and contained. Stone walls had sprouted up all around the perimeter of the camp like mushrooms after a rain shower. The fortifications made Willam feel more secure but trapped as well. _This is just the price of safety. It's better than having wild animals come and go as they please._

The wolf den itself remained largely unchanged. Otto forbade anyone from disturbing the home of the direwolves, so they had left the den as they found it. The wolf warren was hidden from prying eyes by a dense thicket, while the human camp sat on a small cliff that overlooked the dense foliage. The ramp that connected the two worlds was fortified by thick stone walls and a gate large enough for two wolves to pass through abreast. The gate always remained shut unless Otto wanted to bring some of his wolves to the human portion of the camp. Nowadays, the direwolves were more accustomed to humans. Or at least the ones they had already known for a while.

New humans were arriving at the camp at a steady rate. There were thirteen currently living at the base if Willam was not mistaken. Clarisse had been rescued first, nearly a month and a half ago. The patrols were initially very unlucky with rescuing fresh castaways off the beach since most perished before they could stop by the shelters. Clarisse was the only survivor to be rescued in that first week. Otto responded to this setback by taming a trio of megaloceros that fortunately solved the problem. It took a few weeks to train the giant elk, but the results were well worth it. In the last two weeks alone, the patrols had been exponentially more successful than in the entire first month. Otto was the first to return home with a new survivor. Unfortunately, he lost three wolves rescuing Maron from a pair of carnotaurus but Willam was happy to hear that the new castaway was alive thanks to their efforts.

A second survivor was rescued just two days after Maron, and then a third the following day. The patrols always returned with someone new every few days. So far, they had rescued a total of seven survivors. Willam was overjoyed to hear about the success of the operation. The impacts of the rescue mission were evident all around the base since every new castaway brought another pair of hands and some useful talent to the camp. Otto kept everyone working to benefit the group, whether it was foraging for food, collecting rocks, chopping lumber, hunting, building, or caring for the animals. Everybody contributed to the wellbeing of the tribe and their productivity had doubled from the days when it was just the six of them.

A second cabin had been constructed beside the first to accommodate the new survivors. The new cabin was a mirror image to the original, and they stood together atop the plateau overlooking the wolf den. Each of the log cabins was large enough to house ten survivors, giving them the total capacity to shelter twenty humans at any given time. The original cabin belonged to the original survivors; Otto, Joseph, Alys, Daven, and himself. The seven new survivors lived in the other cabin. Willam had never set foot inside the new building but he imagined it was much the same as his own.

A third structure was currently being constructed behind the log cabins but it was built of stone bricks instead of wood. The stone building already threatened to overtop the lodges, even though it was far from complete. Only the foundations and the basic framework for the walls had been set, but even the skeleton was larger than the two cabins put together. Otto had wanted a secure stronghold to retreat inside during times of danger, so he had initiated a plan to construct a huge stone fortress. The survivors had only been working on it for a few days but the project would take many more months to complete. Willam himself had designed the stronghold at his leader's request, sketching walls and battlements onto a piece of parchment for the workers to use.

The fortress only existed on paper at the moment but the final product would be large enough to house the entire population of their tribe, including their domesticated creatures. Willam had designed the stronghold to include a great hall and several rooms branching off the main corridor. A winding staircase would lead to a second floor, with more rooms and a few watchtowers. Willam had included dormitories, a kitchen, an armoury and a larder in his design. There would be a large stable in the courtyard for the animals, and thick stone walls would surround the entire fortress. Willam glanced at the construction site and sighed. Only a handful of stone bricks were scattered haphazardly around the skeletal stone framework and almost nothing else. It would be a long time before his plans came to fruition.

Willam entered his cabin and shut the door behind him. Nobody else was inside at this time. They were probably still off doing their respective chores. Willam himself had finished splitting lumber early and could relax for the rest of the day. He unstrapped his steel axe from his belt and placed it on a table beside an assortment of various other tools. Willam shrugged his sweat-stained leather jerkin off and hung it on a peg above his cot. He changed into a more comfortable fur jacket and drew the hood above his head before heading outside.

Argentum usually accompanied him on his walks but the tyrannosaurus was off hunting somewhere in the tundra. Willam had been scared for his pet's life when the adolescent first started hunting alone until he realized Argentum was probably larger than everything else in his hunting grounds. The tyrannosaurus was quickly catching up to an allosaurus in size. It was sometimes hard for Willam to realize how large his pet had grown. It seemed like only yesterday that Argentum had hatched into the world, squealing and whimpering like a helpless infant. He had only stood as tall as Willam's thigh back then, but now it was Willam that stood at _Argentum's_ thigh. The tyrannosaurus had gotten larger and more unruly lately but he was still a child at heart. Argentum always managed to cause mischief around the base, whether it was accidentally trampling someone's wheelbarrow or knocking over stacks of wood. Willam constantly had to keep an eye on the tyrannosaurus to make sure he didn't accidentally crush anybody. It had only been four months since Argentum hatched yet he was growing at an astonishing rate. Willam speculated that his pet would be fully grown by the end of the year.

It took a lot to feed the young tyrannosaurus and Argentum usually hunted until dusk. Willam glanced at the sky and saw that the sun was slowly making its daily descent. The clouds were orange-red and they billowed across the sky like a herd of migrating mammoths. Willam glanced around the camp, searching for something to entertain himself with. He heard Maron's hammer ringing against his anvil and decided to stop by the forge. The blacksmith had built his forge on the highest point of the camp, a small lumpy hill that protruded from the earth like a titan's fist. Willam pulled his furs more closely about himself and started up the hill to visit the blacksmith.

The sun cast long shadows on the world, making Willam's silhouette seem as tall as a giant as he climbed higher and higher. He looked around the camp from his new vantage point. The base was situated on a flat plateau, surrounded by a rough rectangular perimeter of stone walls. Willam spotted a few survivors walking around, going about their business. He didn't recognize most of the new castaways, especially the ones that had only been at the camp for a few days. _I'll have to learn their names eventually,_ Willam noted to himself. _Tonight would be a good time to start._

There was a commotion by the southern gate. Willam saw two survivors run over and lift a log that barricaded the massive wooden doors. They each grabbed a door and pulled, straining at first to move the half-frozen timber. The southern gate groaned open and a rider galloped into the base. Alys had just returned from her patrols, and not alone it seemed. She dismounted from her doe and helped another woman down from the saddle. Alys said something to the two survivors that had opened the gate and one of them ran toward the cabin to retrieve a blanket.

"Is that you, Willam?" a voice called from farther up the hill.

Maron squinted down at him with one hand over his forehead to shield his eyes from the setting sun. Willam climbed to the top of the hill. "Who else could it be?" he jested.

"It was hard to tell without your shadow followin' you around," the blacksmith grinned and slapped Willam's back. "Where's the little monster anyway?"

"Argentum's off hunting, no doubt. He won't be back until dusk." Willam took a moment to catch his breath after the ascent. "Anyhow, what are you up to?"

"I'm just finishin' the last few axe-heads that the Wolf Lord wanted."

He was referring to Otto Weiss of course. Ever since Otto and his wolves had rescued Maron from the jungle, the blacksmith insisted on calling him 'the Wolf Lord.' The name stuck and some of the newer survivors even took it up. Willam knew that his friend hated being called a lord but he went along with it anyway, good-natured as always. Otto thought the title was too uptight and pretentious, especially since he had washed ashore naked with nothing but his name, just like everybody else. Willam felt otherwise. If anyone deserved a special title, it was Otto. He had been the person to unite their group of survivors into a productive and formidable force. He had befriended Winter and helped his direwolf reclaim his rightful position as alpha. Otto might not have been born into nobility, but he was certainly a lord in every other regard.

Maron turned back to his anvil, where a red-hot piece of metal rested. He hammered the molten shape a few times for good measure before picking it up with his tongs and plunging it into a basin of cold water. Maron left the axe-head sizzling in the trough and turned back to Willam.

"I just remembered that I finished fixing your saddle."

"That's perfect!" Willam replied. "If you don't mind, can I pick it up right now?"

"Of course, my friend."

The blacksmith fumbled around for something under his smithy. He pulled a leather contraption out from under the bench with a triumphant smirk. "Here we are!"

Maron held the saddle out for inspection and Willam came closer to examine it. _He didn't just fix Argentum's saddle,_ Willam reflected. _He made it a hundred times better. It almost looks entirely new!_ Many of the worn leather straps had been replaced with sturdy new bands, joined together at criss-crossing intersections. Willam still recognized his old design but Maron had taken a few liberties and added new straps and harnesses. There were even metal rungs on either side of the saddle, that would allow Willam to mount and dismount his towering tyrannosaurus more easily.

"This is impressive work," Willam mused as he circled around the saddle.

Maron grinned back at him. "I added a few metal clips and buckles to hold the thing together. I also adjusted the straps to fit your beast better. Of course, he wasn't around for me to measure, so tell me if the saddle is a bit off and I'll adjust it for you."

"No, this looks perfect," Willam remarked.

The saddle seemed like it would fit perfectly, and he noticed that Maron had added adjustable straps that could expand when Argentum grew larger. Willam took the saddle from Maron's hands and discovered that it was surprisingly light, especially considering all the new improvements.

"Thank you," He smiled at the blacksmith. "If I ever need something made, I'll know who to look for!"

Maron laughed wholeheartedly and patted Willam on the shoulder. "Don't be shy, my forge is always open. Just give me some notice beforehand, eh? I've got to finish these axe-heads and then it's pickaxes after that."

Willam grinned. "I'll be sure to alert you in advance, my friend. You already seem to have your work cut out for you."

"Aye, you're damn right," Maron chuckled. He glanced at a pile of rocks beside his forge and frowned. "That's not good. It looks like I'll need more metal ore before I can get started on those pickaxes."

"I'm sure you'll get your rocks soon," Willam assured. "Daven's supposed to collect them today, if memory serves me right. He usually returns around this time."

"Speak of the devil," Maron laughed. He pointed at the northern gate where a small caravan was returning.

The procession was lead by a wooden wagon drawn by two lumbering ankylosauruses. Daven sat at the reigns, while another young man followed on foot with a metal pike slung over his shoulder. Willam recognized the man but could not put a name to his face, hard as he tried. The wagon was laden with rocks containing all sorts of precious ore; copper and tin, brass and iron, nickel and titanium. Three direwolves brought up the rear, scampering around the slow wagon impatiently.

The wolves did not enter through the gate as the rest of the caravan did. As soon as the others had reached the safety of the walls, the direwolves turned the other way and circled around the perimeter of the human base. They travelled outside the walls to return to the den, which was on the other side of the human camp. Daven and the other man got off the wagon and closed the northern gate, barring the doors with a thick wooden beam. They led the ankylosaurus up the hill to the forge.

Maron greeted them warmly when they arrived with his delivery. "Thank the heavens! You're just in time for my newest batch o'pickaxes."

"When have I ever d-disappointed you before?" Daven smiled.

Maron's laughter was like the sound of boulders tumbling down a mountain. "Fair enough," he grinned.

The blacksmith seemed to notice the young pikeman standing beside Daven. "Roderick, was it? Well met." He shook the other man's hand.

"Likewise," Roderick replied.

 _So that's his name,_ Willam thought to himself. His memory must have been failing him. Willam nodded at the new survivor and smiled at Daven. "Nice to see the two of you home safely. Did you have any trouble on the way back?"

"We saw a few wild beasts but I think the wolves scared them away," Roderick shrugged lazily. He switched his pike over to his other shoulder.

"That's good to hear. We should see if Maron needs any help unloading the wagon."

The blacksmith was scratching an ankylosaurus under the chin while the second one nuzzled his side. The two herbivores began growling at one another as they competed for Maron's affection. The bulky creatures reminded Willam of an old married couple, constantly bickering with each other at every slight provocation. Whenever he saw the ankylosaurus together, they always seemed to be butting heads, both figuratively and literally. Fortunately, both of them seemed to be fond of Maron. The ankylosaurus had been tamed at his request since human labour was not efficient enough to supply him with all the metals he needed. After borrowing the _Dossier_ from Willam, the blacksmith had flipped through the book and found a page filled with notes about the ankylosaurus. Willam himself had never actually seen the beasts at work but the _Dossier_ said their thick clubbed tails were great at smashing boulders into smaller fragments. The information was evidently true if the huge pile of ore sitting inside the wagon was any indication.

"Need any help?" Willam called.

Maron climbed onto the side of the wagon and peered inside. He grinned at the sight of all the ore. "No, I can handle this on my own."

The blacksmith turned around and glanced at the setting sun. "It's almost time for the bonfire. I won't hold you up any longer. Go on, enjoy some dinner. I'll join you all later."

"As you say," Daven replied. He motioned toward Roderick and the two of them unhitched the ankylosaurus from the front of the wagon.

"I won't be needin' any more ore for a few days," The blacksmith said to Daven and Roderick. "You'll have to find somethin' else to do tomorrow."

"That won't be a p-p-problem," Daven sighed. "There's always t-too much to do around here. Until next time," he waved at Maron and set off down the hill with Roderick and the animals in tow.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like any help?" Willam asked as the others left.

Maron waved him off without a backwards glance. "Go get some food, you old fool."

Willam chuckled. "If you say so, but you're missing out. Anyway, I'll leave you to your rocks."

"I heard we're having roast boar tonight. Save a leg for me!" the blacksmith hollered over his shoulder.

Willam laughed as he gathered up Argentum's saddle. He would try to honour Maron's request but there would be no guarantees, especially if the rumour was true and they were having crackling pork tonight. With the saddle in his arms, Willam jogged to catch up to Daven and Roderick. They seemed to be having problems with one of the creatures they were leading.

"Headed for the stables?" Willam asked between breaths.

"That's the plan," Roderick replied. "If only this beast would cooperate."

One of the ankylosauruses was digging its feet into the hillside, throwing its armoured head around and groaning. "What's the matter with this thing?" Roderick asked, alarmed. He had taken a step back to avoid the beast's deadly spikes and clubbed tail.

"Didn't Otto tame these things last week?" Willam inquired.

"Aye, so he did. What difference does it make?" Roderick scowled as the ankylosaurus thumped its tail on the ground, forcing him to stumble away to avoid being clubbed.

"I read that these beasts rarely cooperate until they're fully domesticated," Willam replied. "This one probably needs more training. You should just return it to Clarisse and come back in a few days when it's more docile."

"No that can't be it," Roderick frowned. "This thing was pulling the wagon just fine earlier today. I don't understand why it's suddenly changed."

Willam shrugged. He could not determine the reason for the beast's erratic behaviour either. He looked to Daven for help and the other man produced an apple from his pouch. "They usually cooperate when we give them rewards," he explained to Willam.

Daven offered the treat to the large herbivore and the ankylosaurus accepted it hesitantly. The beast snapped the apple out of Daven's hands and crunched on the fruit placidly. The other ankylosaurus snorted at the sight of the treat and slammed into its companion. The apple went flying and both beasts dove to gobble it up. Daven shook his head and chuckled to himself. "There we go, back to normal."

Willam adjusted the saddle in his grip since it was starting to slide down. "I need to bring Argentum's saddle to the stables. I'll come along with the two of you and we can visit Clarisse. She'll know what to make of this."

The others nodded and the three humans continued onward with the ankylosaurus close behind. The stubborn beast did not struggle again until they reached the stable doors, this time waving its tail and snorting. Roderick cursed and dove to the muddy ground to avoid the unruly beast's crazed antics. The other ankylosaurus picked up on its companion's behaviour and began pawing at the ground.

Daven pushed the doors open and coaxed the two ankylosauruses to enter. They lumbered along after him while Roderick and Willam brought up the rear, following at a distance in case the beasts should swing their bone-crushing tails too far. The air inside the stables was ripe with the scent of hay and manure. Willam immediately felt much warmer as soon as he entered the building.

The stable had been built because Clarisse preferred sleeping in the holding pen instead of the cabin. Otto would not allow her to freeze to death, so they had built a wooden stable complete with a loft for her to sleep in. All of their domesticated animals were housed in square pens that lined the main walkway. There were five pens on either side of the building, allowing them to shelter ten animals in total. So far, only eight of the pens were claimed.

The trio of megaloceros from Otto's ravine expedition had been the first inhabitants of the building. They were kept on the left side of the stables against the far wall. Willam saw Daciana in her stall and the golden doe mewed in greeting. Alysanne's doe was sleeping in her pen but Joseph's great buck was nowhere to be seen. The large man likely hadn't returned from his patrols yet. The two new bucks that Otto tamed last week occupied the remaining pens on the left side. They grumbled nervously and tossed their antlers when the ankylosaurus lumbered into the stable.

Daven and Roderick led the two armoured herbivores into their stalls on the right side of the building while Willam watched. He peered into the neighbouring pen and saw the final animal, a newly tamed woolly rhinoceros. The beast was absolutely massive. It had a shaggy brown coat and a wicked front horn that gleamed in the light of dusk. The rhino was currently asleep but even its slumbering form commanded respect and attention. Willam had no idea how Otto and his hunting party had managed to domesticate such a mighty creature but he had learned to stop questioning his leader a long time ago.

"Oh there you are, Clarisse," He heard Daven say. "Can you. . . wh-what the hell is that thing?"

There was the sound of scuffling feet against the wooden floor and a megaloceros whickered in distress. _Something_ snarled in reply and Willam was alarmed to realize it was not a direwolf, as he had thought. He turned toward the commotion and saw Clarisse standing at the other end of the stables. A dark furry shape growled protectively at her feet. Two more dark shapes prowled from the shadows of the adjacent pen to join their brother.

Daven stumbled in his haste to escape and landed flat on his back. The trio of monsters advanced with ferocious snarls, panning out to flank him on all sides. Roderick grabbed his steel pike with both hands and planted himself in front of the approaching demons. The frightened megaloceros were snorting, the ankylosauruses were lashing their club tails and even the rhinoceros had woken up. It bellowed and grunted, tossing its head in distress.

"Stay back, foul beasts!" Roderick's pike flashed from side to side. It was no use, for the three monsters would dart back whenever the weapon swept past. They slowly advanced, growling low in their throats.

 _These things can't possibly be feral,_ Willam thought to himself. _There must be some explanation for why they're here and Clarisse probably has the answers._ He glanced up at the stablegirl but she was still standing in the same spot as before. The quiet woman made no move to interfere, instead watching silently as the canines prowled forward. One of the demons leapt forward and snapped at Roderick's neck. He stumbled away in the nick of time, blindly swinging his pike. The animals were grunting and screeching from their stalls. Daven added to the cacophony by cursing and shouting from his corner. One of the megaloceros kicked its pen and the wooden door flew askew. Bloodshed would be inevitable unless Willam did something quickly.

He grabbed Roderick's arm. The frightened man nearly stabbed Willam but stopped himself in time. "Put down your steel!" Willam shouted.

Roderick lowered his weapon a fraction but gripped it for dear life. Willam pushed Roderick behind him and extended an arm to hold him back. The three dark canines snarled at the sudden movement. Willam slowly raised his hands to show that he was not a threat. "Everybody stand down!"

The monsters hesitated for a moment. Willam looked to the stablemaster for help. "Clarisse, can you explain the meaning behind this?"

She met his eyes but did not say anything. The three canines resumed their advance, jeering and snarling. "Clarisse, _help_. Please," Willam added urgently.

She took a step forward and the monsters froze. They turned to face her, suddenly calm once more. Clarisse whistled and the three canines loped toward her happily. She bent down to scratch one of the devils behind the ear. Willam slowly released the breath he didn't know he was holding. He turned around to make sure his friends were alright. Roderick had lowered his pike but his unsteady hands trembled beside the weapon, ready to draw it at a moment's notice. Daven looked extremely pale and he was shaking in the corner, his hands covering his face. Willam turned back toward Clarisse to demand an explanation for the monsters.

"Where did you get those _things_?" Willam asked, perhaps a bit more sharply than he had intended.

"Otto brought them," Clarisse replied calmly. One of the canines was licking her hand.

"Of course he did," Willam sighed.

Every so often, Otto managed to bring home some wild beast and stash it in the stables. It had been the woolly rhinoceros last week, and now it was the three canines frollicking around Clarisse. Willam always found it bothersome when Otto failed to mention the new inhabitants of the stables to him. He hated surprises, particularly ones with sharp teeth and claws.

"Alright, just make sure you keep them under control. We don't want another incident in here," Willam told Clarisse, thinking of how the rhino had panicked and destroyed two stalls last week.

The girl nodded and graced him with the faintest suggestion of a smile. Willam motioned to Roderick and Daven, who had both managed to regain their courage. They approached warily, eyeing the canines as they drew closer. Willam himself got a good look at the beasts for the first time and realized it was a trio of hyaenodons. Willam was growing old and he preferred to abstain from hunting but even he had heard about the ferocious reputation of the beasts. They were pack hunters like direwolves except these canines were often found in much larger clans. Although they weren't as powerful as their larger adversaries, hyaenodons had an uncanny ability for detecting weak prey. They often used their sharp sense of smell to root out injured or elderly creatures, defenceless juveniles, and fresh carcasses. Willam hoped he was not included in their list of potential targets.

Daven and Roderick finished their respective tasks quickly and retreated from the stable without a backwards glance. Willam stayed a bit longer, mulling over the situation. The animals had calmed down but the other humans were clearly still unnerved. Willam found himself surprisingly relaxed, especially considering the events that had transpired over the past few minutes. He supposed his calm behaviour could be attributed to his acquaintance with other man-killing monsters. After all, Willam had lived with Winter for months and he himself was raising a tyrannosaurus dominum, one of the deadliest beasts on the Island. He found it ridiculous to be afraid of something as small as a hyaenodon when he had already dealt with more dangerous monsters in the past.

However, the same could not be said for the new arrivals. Daven was still terrified of Winter and his pack, despite having lived with the wolves for months. It was no surprise that the hyaenodons frightened him as well. As for Roderick, Willam did not know much about the man except that he had been rescued a few days ago. All the new castaways were slowly adjusting to the Island but they were all strangers to this world. Every single one of the new survivors had been scared half to death after arriving at the Den, where humans lived side by side with wolves and other ferocious beasts. However, there was one exception to this almost universal rule; Clarisse.

The stablegirl possessed an uncanny ability for befriending animals. Willam remembered the day Clarisse had first arrived, pale and bruised from her time in the wild. Alys had found her petrified with fear inside one of the shelters they had constructed. Alys immediately brought the frightened girl home and entrusted her to Willam's care, since he was the closest thing they had to a healer. Even after Clarisse had been safely seated in the log cabin beside a roaring fire, she had remained frozen with fear. Willam had tried his best to help her recover from her trauma, including everything the _Dossier_ had to offer about medicinal herbs and tonics. None of it worked. Clarisse only seemed to recover very slightly after Otto returned from his expedition with a few unconscious megaloceros. Willam had been shocked when Clarisse snapped out of her catatonic state and slipped outside into the freezing cold. She immediately began tending to the injured elk and from that moment onwards, Clarisse had been their new stablemaster.

Willam glanced at her curiously. The three hyaenodon were frolicking around her legs and he saw a faint smile play across her lips. Willam found it strange how she was so fearless when it came to animals, yet timid and shy in every other regard. Clarisse was absolutely terrified of any sort of violence and she seldom left the stable. She shunned meat entirely and preferred a vegetarian diet. Clarisse rarely spoke and even when she did, it was only short phrases or single words. Willam thought he had done something wrong to make her frightened of him but in truth, she was scared of everybody. Clarisse only seemed to enjoy the company of the animals. She always seemed much more confident and brave whenever there was some creature at her side. It was almost as if Clarisse were an entirely different person in the company of the beasts.

Willam hung his saddle onto a wooden peg on the wall. Although Argentum never slept in the stable, it was a good place to store his saddle. Willam turned to Clarisse before he left. "We're having dinner soon," he told her. "You're welcome to join us."

Clarisse stared at him for a moment and shook her head a fraction. "No," she mumbled, sitting down on a pile of hay.

"I'll ask someone to bring you food later tonight," Willam told her.

She lifted her head to meet his eyes. When Clarisse spoke, it was hardly more than a whisper, "thank you."

Willam left Clarisse like that, with the three canines curled peacefully around her.

The sun was starting to dip below the horizon by the time Willam stepped outside into the frigid cold. A great bonfire was blazing in the centre of the camp, and he saw a crowd of blurry dark shapes gathered around the fire. The scent of fried boar was in the air and Willam's stomach rumbled involuntarily in response. He wanted to join his friends by the fire more than anything in the world but there was something he had to do first. Willam tugged his fur jacket about himself and headed toward the western gate.

He got a closer look at the bonfire when he passed by. One of the new arrivals, a man named Hadrian, was rotating the spit over the fire. He was a grizzled middle-aged survivor who had managed to survive by himself in the wilderness for a few months before Otto found him. So far, Hadrian had proven himself to be trustworthy as well as a diligent worker. He was well-loved around the camp for his excellent foraging skills and his habit of returning home with baskets full of fresh vegetables, herbs, shellfish and salmon. No doubt, the delicious smell of the roasted boar was his doing.

Otto and Joseph were standing by the outskirts of the fire, deep in discussion. Two direwolves were casually lounging around the pair as they talked. Winter was nowhere to be seen but that was not a surprise. The alpha was usually off hunting or patrolling his vast expanse of territory. A little further to the right, Alys and Daven were laughing as they shared some secret joke. Patches was curled up around Daven's neck, slumbering peacefully. Willam saw that Maron had finished unloading his ore since the blacksmith had joined the others by the fire. He was talking with Rodrick and two women, neither of whom Willam had been acquainted with yet. There were a few other men and women around the fire but Willam did not know any of their names. He made a mental note to introduce himself later in the night.

Willam skirted around the bonfire and made his way over to the western gate. The rough oaken doors loomed above him, chipped and dented in a few places. There were traces of sap clinging to the wood and chunks of bark where the wood had not been trimmed properly. A wooden log barred the gate closed. Willam lifted the log from the door and shouldered the gate open. He stepped into the wilderness and closed the gate behind him.

He was instantly struck by a freezing northern gale that tossed his furs around him the second he was outside. Willam tugged his clothing closer and made his way toward a grove of spruce trees that sat on a small hill. The trek only took a few minutes but he was red-faced and breathless by the time he reached the crest. Willam made his way to the top of the outcropping, the green-black branches of the spruce trees swaying around him. The trees grew in a tightly-woven cluster at the top of the hill. Willam slid between two of the dark mahogany tree trunks and found himself staring at a golden direwolf surrounded by pale grey gravestones.

Her emerald green eyes flicked up to meet his own and she growled in acknowledgement. Artemis only stared at him for a few seconds before turning back to the tombstone nearest her. The golden wolf hunched beside the stone, silently regarding the mound of dirt before her. Willam pitied the wolf. Her twin Apollo had given his life to rescue Maron from a pair of carnotaurus. The late direwolf's spine had been crushed by one of the brutes and Apollo had been left paralyzed after the battle. Otto had put the crippled wolf out of his misery but the loss clearly still plagued Artemis. She remained hunched beside the gravestone and refused to leave her dead brother's side. Willam had no notion of how long she had been here but it must have been a few hours at the very least.

He gave the direwolf plenty of space and made a circuit to visit all the other tombstones. There were eleven in total. Each grave marked a fallen companion, a friend that would never bask in the light of day again. Otto was the one who built the graveyard. Shortly after rescuing Maron, he returned to the jungle to collect the bodies of his fallen wolves and brought them home. After the first three graves, the Wolf Lord built more to commemorate other deceased friends who had perished earlier. A few of the tombstones did not have bodies buried underneath because the corpses were unretrievable. However, most of the graves were occupied by the bodies of the fallen, or at least the parts they found.

Otto, Joseph and Willam had visited their old base to collect the bones of Hawk and Sarah. It had taken two trips to haul the triceratops' massive skeleton to the graveyard. However, they had only found a single bone to remember Hawk by. The trip to collect the bones of their friends had been traumatic yet necessary, Willam could see that now. The journey had provided closure for the trio of friends and a sense of peace that drowned out the turmoil of their shared loss. Nothing could change what happened in the past but there was still hope for the future.

Sarah's tombstone was in the corner, next to Hawk's smaller grave. Their names had been chiselled into pale grey stone and their bones were buried beneath their respective monuments. Willam silently stood before each of the tombstones for a few moments, honouring the fallen animals. If not for their valiant efforts defending the camp, he might not have been alive at this moment. Argentum's egg would have been smashed before the infant was even born and all his friends would have fallen prey to the megalosaurus pack. Hawk and Sarah gave their lives to defend his tribe and Willam would never forget their sacrifice.

He visited the next trio of gravestones, which were the three wolves who had died rescuing Maron. Willam had not known any of the beasts very well but he still felt saddened by their deaths. He had lived amongst the wolves for months, studied their behaviour, and gained some small insight into their world. He would never truly understand the direwolves but he could sympathize with them. He knew what it felt like to belong to a team and he would feel devastated if any of his friends ever died. Otto and Joseph had been with him nearly his entire time on the Island. They were his pack and his family.

Willam respectfully passed each of the gravestones in turn. Artemis was still curled beside her brother's grave so Willam gave the she-wolf a wide berth. He did not want to intrude on her space. Next, he visited the gravestones of Winter's family. Otto had never recovered their bodies but their memories lived through the monuments. There were six graves clustered together. The largest belonged to Winter's father and the one beside it to his mother. The other four represented his dead siblings. Willam had only heard about the wolves through Otto but if they were anything like Winter, they would surely be missed. The white direwolf was a loyal friend, a fearsome leader, and a dedicated guardian. Willam trusted the wolf with his life. Even after the attack on their old camp where Winter had been gravely wounded, Willam had felt safer knowing that the huge white direwolf was always watching over him.

The spruce trees rustled suddenly. Willam spun around and found himself staring at Winter as if the very thought had summoned him. The alpha direwolf bowed his massive head in greetings and padded over to the graveyard. He nuzzled against Willam and repeated the same gesture for Artemis. The great white direwolf settled down beside the gravestones of his family and howled into the night, a long and mournful song that echoed to the stars. Willam backed away from the direwolf, giving the alpha his space. He was not particularly surprised to see Winter at the graveyard since the white direwolf often visited his fallen friends and family. Winter was not the only one Willam had observed; Otto and Joseph frequently visited the graves as well. There was something therapeutic about the serene hillside, with its dark green spruces and pale grey lichens. Everything seemed so peaceful here and it was almost as if the dead were watching over him. It was not an eerie feeling so much as a comforting one, like the presence of long lost friends. Willam felt a strange attraction to the graveyard, a strange allure that Otto and Joseph must have felt as well.

Willam had been surprised one day when he saw Alys heading to the graveyard, for he thought the place would have no meaning for her. It was only a few hours afterwards when she returned to the camp that Willam remembered she had her own ghosts and demons. The death of Lucy still plagued Alys and the young girl's death would likely remain unhealed for a long time. Afterwards, Willam began to notice other survivors going to the graveyard as well, honouring those that had fallen and their own dead as well. The place clearly had great significance for everyone in the tribe and he was glad the serene hillside was helping them all heal.

Willam stayed in the graveyard for a moment longer before gathering his furs and heading down the hill. Winter and Artemis made no move to join him. They remained rooted in their respective positions, mourning their loved ones. Willam left the two wolves to themselves. He knew they would stay there for a few more hours and he did not want to intrude on their grief.

The sun was just barely peeking above the horizon and the last few rays of daylight were rapidly dwindling when Willam emerged from the grove. The vast snowy tundra was covered in shadows and Willam made out movement below the hill. A dark blob shifted and Willam saw two huge yellow eyes swing toward him. He froze and reached for his dagger, stunned that anything had gotten this close to the graveyard without either Winter or Artemis noticing. He was about to unsheathe the blade when he recognized the outline of the blob before him. It was Argentum, back from his hunting trip. Willam smiled and whistled for his pet.

The growing carnivore trampled toward him happily, releasing a delighted growl as he drew closer. The carnotaurus-sized juvenile bowled into him, knocking him to the ground. Willam laughed as the great silver beast nuzzled him lovingly. Argentum was evidently overjoyed to see him. Willam steadied himself against the carnivore's side and climbed to his feet. The tyrannosaurus rumbled happily and fell in beside Willam as he made his way down the hill. The old man could see the bonfire throwing great shades of red and orange into the night sky. He heard the dull rumble of half a dozen voices gathered around the fire and most prominently of all, he smelled the delicious scent of fried boar drifting through the chilly air. Argentum could smell it too. The massive carnivore growled in anticipation and Willam smiled at his pet.

"Come on, Argentum, let's see if they saved a haunch for us to share."

With that, Willam patted Argentum's side and they headed toward the roaring fire together.

* * *

 **Author's note:**

 **King Endercreeper, thanks for the support! I got the name "Daciana" from DevoutRelic, back when I held the contest for the orange dilophosaurus' (now Hawk's) name. As for Maron, I have no idea what ethnicity he is but I'll leave that up to the reader lol. Great hearing from you as always!  
**

 **The Dweeb 4252, thanks for the kind words, I'm glad you liked the chapter and the action sequence!**

 **Changeling Man, thanks for the kind praise! Otto certainly does get himself into a bit of trouble every once in a while. Also screw pegomastax. One of the devils stole my spyglass and journeyman pick the other day.**

 **J. S. F. Northern Command, yes I have definitely considered it but in my story carnivores are a lot harder to tame than in normal ARK. Most tribes will rely on smaller carnivores to fight their wars and seeing something larger than a carno on the battlefield will be pretty rare. Herbivores will be much more common tames, as I tried to show in this latest chapter. Anyway, good luck with your story and thanks for the review!  
**

 **TheRagingNebula, thanks for the nice review! I'll try to upload as often as I can.**

 **Blueberrium, haha thanks! And yup, I'm done for now! Nobody else should die in the next few chapters. . .**

 **Caleb R. Watson,** **Thanks for your support! I try to use swear words sparingly but as the story takes a darker tone they might surface more frequently. Speaking of which, I'm glad that you enjoyed the killing of characters. In my opinion, it does make the story much more realistic which I was going for. And finally,** **Maron did indeed set up a smithy and forge but he's pretty much the only one who knows how to use it. Thanks for taking the time to leave a review!**

 **Jdm/Jordan, thanks I hope my writing will improve as well!**

 **ShadowKing92, thanks for the review! I have considered doing a timeskip but unfortunately it'll only be a few months at the most. I don't want to leave the characters to their own devices for too long.**

 **Thanks for taking the time to check out my first fanfiction, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I will try my best to upload as regularly as possible. Feel free to comment, ask question or criticize my story, review is always welcome. And i** **f you like what you saw, make sure to check out the other ARK: Survival Evolved fanfictions out there. Have a great rest of your day or night.**

 **-DaRumpyBurr**


	21. Daven II

**Daven II**

* * *

 _She should have returned by now._ Daven glanced at the sky anxiously. The glaring midday sun had already reached its zenith and was slowly beginning to descend but there was still no sign of Alysanne. Daven glanced at the southern gate for the hundredth time, wondering why has his friend had not returned yet. _She probably found a new castaway somewhere and that's why it's taking so long for her to get back._ Daven tried to view the situation optimistically but he always had a habit of assuming the worst. _She could have been attacked on her way home. Otto mentioned that the wildlife was getting restless from all the patrols stampeding along the beach, perhaps that's why._

Patches appeared at the foot of the rugged knoll to find him. Daven lowered an arm for the otter to climb and smiled as his pet scampered up the length of his extended limb. Patches chirped in greeting and curled up around his neck. Daven favoured the small mammal with a tired smile but his thoughts rested elsewhere. _I'm sure she's fine_ , he repeated to himself as if the statement would become an objective fact. It was true that the wildlife had become more dangerous recently but Otto had expanded the patrols in response. Whereas before riders would venture into the wilderness alone, now they ranged in pairs or groups of three. The tribe certainly had enough riders and mounts to support the improvement, especially after Otto had trained half a dozen new rangers and tamed as many new megaloceros.

Alys had left the compound earlier in the morning with Lily and Rodrick, along with four direwolves for protection. They had all been mounted on large megaloceros bucks, save for Alys who preferred riding does. She claimed that the female elk were much faster and more sensitive to commands. Daven always urged her to ride the sturdier males but once Alys set her mind on something, it was impossible to convince her otherwise. He just hoped she was safe.

 _Ahooooooooooooooo. Ahooooooooooooooooooooo._

Two blasts of a horn echoed from one of the watchtowers, signalling the return of riders. _Could it be her?_ Daven prayed that Alys had returned from her patrol safely. Just last week, a rider had been pulled from his mount and mauled to death by a pack of raptors. His megaloceros and one of the wolves accompanying him had been slain in the battle but the other two direwolves managed to fend off the attackers. Another rider had found the corpses on her way home and she reported the findings to Otto. After that, the Wolf Lord had expanded the patrols to ensure the safety of his rangers.

Daven made his way toward the gate nearest the watchtower. Many of the morning patrols returned at around this time but there was a chance that Alys had come home. There was a shout from the other side of the wall and two men ran to open the southern gate. They lifted a log from its hitches and pulled the double doors open with a creaking groan. The wooden gates yawned open and the pair who opened it stepped aside as two riders thundered into the compound, followed by a few direwolves. Both rangers donned dark iron helmets over their heads that made it difficult to distinguish their respective identities. The first rider was unusually large and he rode on a massive buck with a rack of sturdy antlers. It had to be Joseph, Daven knew at once. The large black man spotted him waiting by the side and rode over to greet him. The other rider followed his partner and brought his mount to a halt beside Daven.

"Daven, what brings you here?" Joseph asked as he dismounted.

"I'm w-waiting for Alys to return. You haven't s-seen her by any chance. . . have you?"

"I'm afraid not, my friend." The large man took his helmet off. "The last time I saw her was this morning, when we left the base together."

"Oh, that's unfortunate," Daven remarked with growing dread. "Do you think she's. . ."

"I'm sure she's fine," Joseph interjected. "From what I've seen during sparring practice, Alys is a capable fighter. Hell, she's knocked me flat on my arse more times than I can count. If she can do that much damage with a practice sword, then I shudder to imagine what she'd do with a real weapon."

"It's j-just that she never returns this l-late." Horrible visions were already flashing through Daven's mind. "We should t-tell Otto to send out a s-search party right away! Who knows what could have hap—"

His world suddenly went dark as something attached itself to his face, covering his eyes. His heart skipped a beat at the thought that some monstrous flying beast had swooped into the Den to rake out his eyes. Daven shouted and stumbled around until a friendly voice said, "Guess who!"

His shoulders immediately relaxed and he exhaled in relief. "Alys, you're back. Th-thank the heavens."

"Did you miss me?" She mocked as she swung off her doe. Alysanne grinned at him from beneath her helmet. "Oh, I wasn't gone _that_ long, was I?"

"N-no," Daven managed at last. "Well yes, actually. I thought something h-happened to y-you."

Alys rolled her eyes and took her iron half-helm off. "As if anything could happen to me. We just found a new survivor, that's all."

She motioned at her two patrol partners, who were helping a frightened man off the back of a megaloceros buck. The new castaway was eyeing the direwolves that had accompanied their patrol, flinching whenever one of the creatures looked his way.

Alys turned to Joseph, grinning. "It looks like we beat you again. What's our score now? I believe we've rescued three more survivors than your group."

"Alright, alright," Joseph replied goodnaturedly. "I'll admit my luck hasn't been the best lately."

"Luck?" Alys scoffed. "As I recall, you didn't believe in luck when you were winning."

"That was when _I_ was winning," Joseph retorted. "Regardless, I'll catch up next week. Just wait and watch."

Alys smiled. "Remember, our wager will be over by the new moon. You only have a few days."

"Anything can change in a few days. Perhaps I'll even rescue three castaways tomorrow."

"In your wildest dreams! Only Otto has that sort of luck. Face it Joseph, you've already lost. Prepare to accept your fate in a few days."

"Oh, I'll honour my end of our little wager. But that's only if I lose!" Joseph called over his shoulder as he led his mount away. Joseph's patrol partner followed him to the stable.

Alys smiled and shook her head when Joseph was gone. Daven glanced at her suspiciously. "What was that all about?"

"Oh, just a little deal we made a while ago. If Joseph loses, he has to ride a doe for the rest of his patrols the next week."

Daven couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculous notion of Joseph riding one of the smaller female megaloceros. The poor creature would barely be able to bear his weight. "And if you lose?" Daven asked.

"Don't worry about it. I won't lose," Alys promised. She shifted her iron half-helm to her other hand and shouted at one of her patrol partners, a muscular woman who sat astride a large buck. "Lily! Mind putting this back in the armoury for me?"

Alys threw the helmet at her partner. Lily caught it with one hand and smiled. "Of course not, Alys." She flicked her reins and rode off toward the other corner of the base, the helmet tucked under her arm. Rodrick, the third and final ranger, nodded at Daven and Alys before following Lily to the armoury.

When they were alone, Alys turned back to Daven and grabbed his arm. "Come on, I promised to teach you more riding lessons. There's a great spot for practicing behind that hill over there."

Daven followed Alys to a corner of the base where two stone walls met at a slanted angle. The space afforded them a bit of privacy, since they were shielded behind a hill and there were no watchtowers nearby. Daven spent a fair bit of time reviewing his lessons from the previous week, but he still found it unnerving to be seated so high. Alysanne's personal mount was not particularly large, yet Daven still towered above the rest of the world when he was seated atop the doe's back. He felt vulnerable up there, as if any errant gust of wind would blow him over. Even Patches, who normally enjoyed heights, scampered down his shoulder and watched from a safe distance.

Alys called out encouragingly every time Daven faltered. He found courage just from the sound of her voice, the way it contained an exuberance that revolved solely around him. Listening to her shouts of encouragement, he found the nerve to urge the doe forward a few steps. He swayed unsteadily atop his saddle but dug his legs into the doe's flanks and grabbed the reins tightly. With Alysanne's encouragements ringing in his ears, Daven urged the doe into a light canter. He was amazed to find himself seated after a few seconds. Finally, he worked up the courage to enter a trot and laughed aloud as he circled around Alys.

After the riding lessons were over, they returned to the hill and sat there talking. The afternoon sun beamed down upon the two of them with its gleaming golden rays. There wasn't a cloud in sight and the weather stayed perfect all afternoon. It was a relatively windless day, and only the occasional gust of wind found its way to their isolated hill. A few hardy tufts of coarse green grass sprang up among the nooks and crannies of the rocks. Alysanne's doe shuffled around the base of the hill, picking at the shrubs. A handful of wild blue violets dared to grow atop the hill and Daven twirled their sturdy green stems around as he talked with Alys. They sat there for hours, even as the sun slowly sank in the west. Time did not seem to exist on that hill, that small pocket of peace that shielded them from the outside world. Daven watched his pet otter scamper across the lichens, hunting down bugs with ruthless efficiency and crushing them under his small paws. Patches would bring his most impressive kills back to Daven, including a centipede that the otter dumped on his leg. Daven flinched away at the sight of the revolting insect, to the ringing laughter of Alys. He sat up sheepishly and graced Alys with a smile. When she smiled back, his entire world seemed to light up with the brilliance of a thousand suns.

Daven found himself drawn deeper and deeper into her sparkling sapphire eyes. The way they glimmered like a shifting tropical sea, now blue, now green, and blue again. Daven loved the way her beautiful hair caught the sun, the way it shone like spun gold. For one precious moment, the rest of the world faded away. The crisp blue sky and the glaring sun retreated. Patches slipped away to hunt his bugs somewhere else. The huge stone walls that surrounded the base disappeared from sight until it was just the two of them sitting on the hill, admiring the world together. Daven was so focused on Alys that he didn't hear the crunch of boots on gravel until the two men were within a stone's throw away.

He whirled around, alarmed at the intrusion. Two survivors were standing at the foot of the hill, looking up at them. Daven had never spoken to either of them before. From what he could recall, these two men had arrived at the base together last week. Unlike most of the other rescued survivors, the two men had found their way here by themselves. Daven thought their names were Alexander and Martin but he was not entirely sure.

Upon first glance, he could tell that they were up to no good. Alexander, the taller of the two who Daven pegged as the leader, strolled up the hill confidently. He sported an arrogant grin on his face that Daven wanted to wipe off with a stroke of his fist. Daven tensed up when the two men were standing right in front of them.

"Wh-what do you w-want?" he demanded with an edge to his voice.

"Oh, I couldn't help but notice your lovely friend here," Alex flashed them a charming grin, but his arrogant brown eyes were unsmiling. "I'm Alexander. If I may have the honour of knowing your name, my lady?"

"Alysanne, but please call me Alys," she replied warily.

"What a beautiful name," Alexander remarked. His curly brown hair fell in ringlets around his dark eyes. "Though it truly doesn't do your beauty justice."

"You have my thanks, sir."

Alexander did not take the hint. He persisted relentlessly. "Perhaps one day I could show you around the woods. I know some lovely places where we would be safe from prying eyes." He directed that last part at Daven with a sullen glare.

"I'm afraid I'll have to decline your offer though I mean you no offense. I spend most of my days patrolling the coast to search for new survivors." Alys replied courteously enough but Daven had known his friend long enough to tell that she felt uncomfortable.

"Ah, is that so? Well then perhaps—"

Daven had enough of this stubborn man and his endless arrogance. He stood up abruptly. "B-back off."

Alexander turned to glare at him coldy. "I didn't quite catch that." He turned to his friend Martin. "What did he s-s-s-say?"

Martin burst out laughing and Alexander leered at him. Daven flushed red with anger and embarrassment. He clenched his hands into fists as he sized the other man up. Alys grabbed his arm, silently urging him to sit back down before the situation escalated further.

Daven brushed her arm away and took a step forward. He was trembling with fear but he hoped it wasn't evident to the other men. "I said b-b-back off."

Alexander smiled at him mischievously but his eyes remained stone cold. "Why don't you make me, _halfwit_." The arrogant intruder shoved Daven harshly.

Daven went stumbling backward and he tripped over a rock. He fell flat on his back with enough force to knock all the breath from his lungs. His ears were ringing from the impact and something sharp dug into his back. Daven gasped and propped himself up on a scraped elbow.

Patches immediately jumped to his defence and hissed at the offender. The otter placed himself protectively in front of Daven but Alys got there first. "Leave him alone," she spat.

Alexander sneered at the display. "Absolutely pathetic. It truly speaks volumes that you need a _woman_ to cower behind."

Daven leapt to his feet. His eyes were smoldering with fury. They could mock him all they wanted but he would _not_ let them insult Alys. In the blink of an eye, he lunged at Alexander and smashed his fist into the other man's temple with all the force he could muster. Alex stumbled back, his hand clutching his head. He seemed more surprised than anything else. Then something about his demeanour changed and the muscles around his neck grew taut.

Alexander hurled himself at Daven and pummeled him in the stomach. Daven doubled over in pain, wheezing from the blow. A fist caught him in the jaw and his world spun around. He tasted blood at the back of his mouth. All he could hear was his own laboured breathing and his heart beating like a drum. Before Daven had a chance to recover, he was jabbed in the eye and half the world went black. Daven grunted and coughed up blood as he went down on one knee. He was distantly aware of Alys screaming at them to stop.

A shadow loomed over him. "Had enough yet, _coward_?"

That mocking voice only fueled his fury. Daven suddenly found the strength to rise. He spat blood into Alexander's face and threw himself at his opponent with renewed hatred. The curly-haired man wiped the blood away and tried to block Daven's first punch. The second fist caught him in the neck, and the third found his stomach.

Alexander suddenly grabbed Daven's wrist and pulled him forward. He slammed his head into Daven's nose and blood sprayed everywhere. Daven clutched at his own nose and his hand came away slick with blood. He was about to retaliate when Alexander seized his shirt with bloody fists and lifted him into the air, flailing and kicking. Daven kneed Alexander in the groin as he hard as he could, and he suddenly found himself on solid ground again. The other man doubled over, gasping in agony.

In the end, it took five survivors to pull them apart. Alys and two other men restrained Daven, while Martin and a woman pulled Alexander away. Where these other survivors emerged from, Daven did not know. They probably heard all the commotion from the fight. He was told much later on that the skirmish had been audible from the other end of the base.

The next few hours were a blur for Daven. He could not say exactly what had happened, though he did have some vague memories of Willam pressing foul-smelling herbs to his wounds. Daven supposed they had taken him to the healer's house but he could not remember staying there. He vaguely recalled moving around from place to place, until he finally found himself sitting on a cracked pine chair in Otto's chamber.

Alexander was there too, scowling at him from the other corner. Daven noted with satisfaction that a huge purple bruise sprawled across the other man's jaw. The wound reminded Daven of his own injuries and he gently probed his broken nose, wincing from the slightest touch. His sight had returned to normal, but the left side of his face was swollen from his black eye. Pain stabbed his weary limbs whenever he tried to move. He grit his teeth and turned to examine the room.

They were inside the Wolf Lord's castle. Daven surmised as much from the stone walls and vaulted ceilings of the dark grey chamber. From what he could recall, the castle was far from being complete. The fortress currently only consisted of wooden framework and a few dark rooms. It was nothing like the sprawling stronghold that Willam had envisioned, with its great hall and its huge stone towers. Although the two ankylosaurus were constantly gathering stones for the fortress and small teams of survivors laboured on the project every day, much more work was needed before the rising structure could truly be called a castle. The stronghold would take many more moons to complete and it was scarcely ready to house any survivors just yet. However, Otto had claimed the first room as his own. The Wolf Lord still lived and slept in a cabin like everyone else, but he conducted all his affairs from inside the castle.

Otto himself was seated behind a scarred pine desk, glowering at Daven and Alexander. Winter crouched behind the sullen lord, growling irritably and lashing his tail to make his displeasure evident. Daven gulped and averted his gaze from the wolf. He took that opportunity to look around the rest of the room but there was nothing to see apart from monotone brick walls. There were no windows in the room, only a handful of torches that beat back endless waves of inky darkness. Blue-grey whorls of smoke snaked their way upward, pooling in the arched ceiling of the room. Daven suddenly had an urge to fling the reinforced oak door behind him wide open and bolt out of the gloomy warren, but he knew he would not get far before they dragged him back to face his fate.

Daven's eyes were rapidly darting around the room, seeking escape routes, when the Wolf Lord finally spoke. "Words don't do justice to how disappointed I am. The two of you are grown men, not boys; you need to rethink your actions and make amends. We cannot afford to fight amongst ourselves when we have larger problems at hand."

"Save your words for this cunt here," Alexander began to protest. He blundered on until Otto silenced him with a glance. The man kept his mouth shut after that.

Otto turned to look at the two of them in turn. "You're both members of this tribe. Try to remember that. I will _not_ allow us to be divided by petty rivalries, and that includes the enmity between you two. It'll take time to quell your hatred, I know that too well. But before anything else, you two need to learn your lessons. You'll face the consequences for your actions starting tomorrow."

"This is ridiculous!" Alexander blurted out. "It was all his fault, he started the fight. Punish him and leave me be."

Winter snarled suddenly, an explosive sound that resonated off the walls of the gloomy chamber and rang voraciously in Daven's ears. Otto fixed the full intensity of his glare onto Alexander until the other man averted his gaze. Otto's eyes were freezing flakes of ice when he leaned forward. "Don't think your vile habits have gone unnoticed. Alys wasn't the first woman to complain about you."

"Lies," Alexander declared. "I haven't harmed a single woman in my life. Is it a crime to compliment the fair ladies? Is it a sin to set my eyes upon their beauty?"

"Do I look like a fool to you? I imagine you'd like to set more than just your eyes upon them. Anyone can see what you truly desire." Winter snarled and circled behind Alexander's chair, growling low and deep. Otto leaned forward until he was face to face with the arrogant man. "Those women are under my protection. Do I make myself clear? If you lay a hand on any lady, I'll see to it myself that you lose the offending hand."

Alex glared back at Otto, gritting his teeth. Daven could tell that he was about to crack under the pressure of the Wolf Lord's icy glare. After a few seconds of the tense confrontation, Otto finally leaned back and took a swig of ale from his mug.

He slammed the cup down on his desk and wiped his mouth. "I think the ankylosaurus have worked hard enough this week and they deserve a break. Starting tomorrow, you'll take their place. Head to the fields and gather rocks until the sun goes down, or your back breaks from the labour."

"Is that it?" Alexander scoffed. "Picking up pebbles is a task anybody with half a brain could do. Aye, I'll do it. I'll collect your damn rocks."

Otto's face remained expressionless. "Good. You're dismissed."

Alex made a point to push his chair back so the wooden legs scraped harsly against the stone floor. He sauntered out of the room with a slight limp to his step. Daven took pride in the fact that Alexander couldn't walk properly anymore.

Otto called after him once he had reached the door. "One more thing. I expect enough stones to complete the first floor of this castle. You have until the end of the week."

Alex gaped at him. "That's impossible. It'll take more than a week to gather that many bloody rocks."

The Wolf Lord smirked. "Better get started then."

Alexander was about to protest further when Winter suddenly lunged at him, teeth bared. Alex yelped in alarm and slammed the door shut. Daven heard a muffled curse on the other side, followed by the sound of Alexander storming off.

Daven only had a few seconds to savour the small victory, for he turned around to find Otto looking at him with a hint of disappointment in his eyes. "I don't blame you for what you did, Daven. Hell, I would have acted the same way in your position but it was still wrong to attack Alex."

"H-he started it," Daven mumbled under his breath.

"I know and that prick had it coming. Either way, you'll still have to face retribution for your actions." Otto looked mildly uncomfortable. He took another drink from his cup and set the mug down gently. "Pack your bags. I'm sending you to the Lookout Hill. You'll leave on the morrow."

It took Daven a few seconds to process what the other man had just said. He stared at the Wolf Lord blankly until the severity of Otto's command slammed into him like an avalanche. He was expecting forced labour or community service, anything but this. Going to the Lookout Hill would mean being separated from Alys and the few other friends he had made along the way. Daven wanted nothing more than to stay at the Den where he was safe and happy. The Lookout Hill seemed a thousand miles away from this dark room and the icy lord seated in front of him.

Daven gaped like a fish out of water before protesting to Otto. "P-p-please, I'll n-never act out of line again. Please, please let m-m-me stay."

Otto silenced him with a wary look. "I need to separate you and Alexander before this situation escalates any further."

"Then s-send him and not me!"

Otto sighed. "As much as I'd like to, I need to keep him here where I can keep an eye on him. If I let that man loose, who knows what sort of trouble he would cause. Besides, this isn't a punishment so much as a promotion."

Daven was still struggling to comprehend what was going on but Otto elaborated. "The Den is getting cramped with all these new survivors and the wolves are getting tense so I'm sending the bulk of our tribe to the Lookout Hill. It'll mainly be the new arrivals and a handful of veterans in the start, but you can be certain that more survivors will trickle in every day from the patrols. As for you, Daven, you're one of my most trusted friends. I need someone loyal to oversee that base so I'm sending you and Joseph. You'll serve under him of course, but I'm still making you second-in-command."

Daven sank further into his chair, dismayed at the thought of uprooting his life to live in some distant base half a world away. He could tell that Otto had already set his mind on this decision and that there was nothing he could do to convince the Wolf Lord otherwise. Daven thought back to earlier that afternoon, when he had lounged on the sunny hill with Alys, never knowing it would be for the last time.

"W-will Alys be there too?" Daven asked timidly.

Otto shook his head. "With Joseph gone, we're already done a survivor for patrols. I need every capable fighter we have to patrol the coast. The wildlife is getting more dangerous, so I need my best warriors with me to rescue new castaways."

Daven was about to protest further but he realized it was no use. He finally accepted his fate and slumped further into his chair, completely defeated. "F-fine. If there's n-no other choice, I'll go."

Otto nodded and thanked Daven for his cooperation but the praise fell on deaf ears. Daven pushed his chair in and left the dark room without a backwards glance. He closed the door behind him and took a deep breath. He was standing beneath a stone archway which would eventually become a pillar to support the stronghold's great hall. _Not like I'll ever get to see the castle when it's complete,_ Daven thought to himself. The sun was slowly sinking below the horizon and the camp was bustling with activity but Daven did not have the heart to partake in any of the events he usually loved. It would be too painful to enjoy a meal by the bonfire for the last time, knowing that he would never return to the Den and his friends again.

 _I need to find Alys_ , he thought to himself. _She needs to know. Oh god, why did this have to happen to me?_ Daven looked around the base desperately, searching for his friend. There was no sign of her glimmering golden hair in the dusky yard. Daven turned around, sinking further and further into despair. It felt as if his world was ending, as if his life was plummeting into a pitch black crater. _What if I can't find Alys? Will I ever see her again? Please, please tell me she's here somewhere._

"Need some help, friend?" a voice called out, not unkindly.

It was Willam with Argentum at his side. Daven clutched the old man's forearm frantically, his eyes wild with fear. "Willam, th-thank the g-gods. H-h-have you s-seen Alys? Please, please t-t-tell me you have. Anywhere at all. I need to f-find Alys."

Willam gripped his shoulders and held him still. Daven was surprised at the strength behind the old man's wrinkled arms. "Calm down, Daven. Take a few deep breaths and tell me what happened."

Everything came pouring out all of a sudden, in quick bursts with sobs mixed in. Daven found himself revealing more than he had wanted to share. How he loved Alys more than anything else in the world. How he had been infatuated with Alysanne from the moment they met. How he admired her bravery and her beauty and everything about her. He told Willam about what happened earlier that afternoon, how they had been sitting together on the hill peacefully one minute and how he found himself trading blows with Alex the next. How they had both been drenched with blood, and how Otto had sent him to the outer reaches of the Island to man a base that only half-existed in his mind. Daven had never intended to tell Willam the whole story, but he found himself pouring out all his emotions from the minute he had woken up on the Island. And for his part, Willam listened. Daven felt the tension leave his shoulders, he felt the grief cascading out from him like waves in a storm-heaved sea. For the first time in his life, Daven shared his feelings about Alys, the feelings that he had bottled up to himself for so long. It felt as if a massive weight had been lifted off his back when he finally finished.

Willam led Daven to a secluded corner of the base while he listened. Argentum trailed behind them like a protective shadow, growling at anyone that gave them strange looks. When they were finally alone, Willam put a hand on Daven's shoulder and comforted him with hushed whispers. "Daven, listen to me. I know it might seem like the end of the world but don't give in to despair, no matter how bleak your life might seem right now. Just remember that everything will be alright again. It might take weeks, months, perhaps even years but you'll recover from this and you'll be stronger than ever before."

Willam peeled back his leather glove to reveal a blotchy pink forearm covered in scars from a fire. "I've been there too. I know what it feels like when your life gets thrown into disorder and everything seems lost. Back when it was just Joseph, Otto and myself, our camp got destroyed by a pack of nightmarish monsters. They killed our friends and nearly killed us too. But we never gave up and we kept fighting to the bitter end."

Willam looked him straight in the eyes and Daven realized for the first time that there was a hidden strength in this frail old man. Willam truly cared about his friends. Daven was comforted to know that at least one person in the dark cruel world cared about him, that at least one kind soul was invested enough to aid him in his time of need.

"Keep fighting, Daven. Never give up and remember that I'll always be there for you. I know it doesn't seem like it right now but Otto's there to support you too. Joseph as well and I'm certain that Alys cares about you with all her heart. You have friends in this world. You're not alone, so please don't feel afraid to talk to any of us. We'll always be there for you."

Daven nodded slowly. He turned Willam's advice over in his head and it gradually started to make sense. He felt the darkness recede, if only by a few hairs. He felt his despair slowly diminish until he could finally bear to think about the horrible things that plagued his life. "I n-need to talk to Alys. I need to tell her how I f-f-feel in case I n-never see her again."

Willam nodded and pointed across the base. "I saw her heading back to the cabin a while ago. Come this way, I'll lead you there."

Daven followed Willam across the compound, shivering and turning his thoughts over in his head. He didn't know how he was going to confess his feelings to Alys. _What if she doesn't feel the same way about me? What if she doesn't want to be friends anymore?_

All too soon, Daven found himself outside the cabin door. He hesitated at the entrance. It was suddenly too much. He wanted to run away, to flee as far as he could from the Den. He was about to turn and run but Argentum blocked his path. The tyrannosaurus growled low and deep, as if ordering him to stay. Willam placed a hand on his shoulder. "Are you afraid, Daven?"

"Wh-what?"

"Are you afraid?" Willam repeated.

Daven nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The old man smiled. "Good. That means you're brave."

"B-brave?" Daven echoed, confused.

"Everybody's been afraid of something at one point or another. Don't let them fool you. I've been scared, Otto's been scared, the man you fought earlier has been scared before. Even Winter, that noble beast, and Argentum right here." The Tyrannosaurus growled in agreement. "The only time anyone can ever be brave is when they're afraid. So go in there and give it your best shot. Don't dwell on what might happen if you fail."

With that, Willam opened the door and shoved Daven inside before he could even protest. The door slammed shut behind him with a resounding _thump_. Alys was sitting on her cot alone and she glanced up when he entered. A smile of relief rushed onto her face and she jumped up to meet him.

"Daven! Thank goodness you're here, I was worried sick."

Daven smiled nervously. "A-are you alright, Alys?"

She looked confused for a moment. "What? Of course I am! Worry about yourself first! Are you alright? Oh, what happened to your poor nose?"

"It's f-fine," Daven dismissed casually. If truth be told, he could barely even feel his nose from all the adrenaline rushing through his body. "D-d-don't worry about it."

Alys came closer to inspect his face, her eyes shining with concern. "It's broken. Let's go see Willam about this. That bastard Alexander, I swear one day he'll get what's coming to him."

"A-actually, Otto already t-took care of him," Daven said quietly.

They sat down on the cot together and Daven filled her in about what had happened after the fight. He told her about what Otto had said to both of them and what Alexander's punishment entailed. Daven finally finished by telling her about his new assignment to oversee the other base.

"That's great, Daven!" Alys declared upon hearing the news. "I'm so proud of you. You'll do great, I just know it."

Daven shook his head furiously and he felt tears welling in his eyes. "No, no, it's not great! Alys, I've b-b-been meaning. . . It's j-just that. . ." He had imagined this moment hundreds of times in his head but he couldn't find the words. _Just three words_ , he thought to himself. _I love you. I love you, I love you._ But try as he might, he couldn't choke those three words out. He found himself more afraid than he had ever been in his life. Those three words would change both their lives forever. Their friendship would never be the same again. _What if she doesn't feel the same way? What if she hates me for it? What if she doesn't want anything to do with me anymore? We've been friends for months and months, I don't want to ruin that with just three words!_ He tried to choke them out again but the words caught in his throat. Alys was looking at him with concern the entire time and he felt his face flush bright pink. The room was too hot, the floor was too stiff, his clothes were too itchy.

"It's j-just. . . What if I never see you again!" he finally blurted out. _Damn it!_ He cursed himself at the same time. _I missed my chance to tell her._

"Oh Daven, don't worry about that. The Lookout Hill isn't too far. It's only a few hours' ride away. You're my best friend and I promise that we'll still see each other all the time."

She pulled him in for an embrace and Daven sobbed into her shoulder, both relieved and devastated. They stayed like that for a small eternity until Alys eventually fell asleep. Daven tucked her into the cot and retreated to his own bedding. By then, the others were already returning to the cabin but Daven pretended to be asleep. He scarcely slept at all that night, tossing and turning with restless dread.

The next morning dawned foggy and cold. Daven found himself seated on a rickety wagon stocked high with provisions. Joseph was there by his side and Patches was curled up around his neck. Daven blinked away his fatigue, rubbing his bloodshot eyes. His lack of sleep was finally catching up to him, although his eyes were pink from crying into his furs. A bitter sense of defeat loomed over him. _I should have told Alys when I had the chance last night,_ he berated himself for the hundredth time. _But there will be other opportunities. . . at least I hope._

The breaths of man and beast fogged the morning air, contributing to the thick mist that enveloped the world. There were fourteen other survivors accompanying Joseph and himself. Daven scarcely knew any of them, for they were almost all new to the tribe. He recognized a few faces here and there but he didn't know most of their names. _I'm being shipped off to a foreign base with a horde of strangers,_ Daven reflected glumly. _At least Joseph's with me_. The large man was huddled up in furs, looking like a great shaggy bear. Joseph waited patiently for the others to form up around them.

Four outriders created a loose circle around their wagon. They were all experienced rangers mounted on elkback, with their weapons of choice slung over their shoulders. Seven wolves joined them, Shina in the lead. A grumpy ankylosaurus lumbered beside the wagon, being coaxed forward the entire time by a nervous stablehand with a fist full of berries. A second wagon lurched to a halt behind their own, this one filled with survivors instead of supplies. Eight men and women were seated in the back, while two veteran rangers sat behind the reigns. Skyler and Eryk, if he recalled correctly. Daven was comforted by the fact that he knew their names. He had exchanged greetings with them on a few occasions. _Maybe this won't be so bad, Daven told himself. I already know three of the men that I'll be living with for the rest of my damned life. I still wish Alys were coming with me though. . ._

A small crowd had formed around the caravan and Daven glimpsed Alys in their midst. The onlooking survivors waved and called out farewells to their friends. Otto appeared through the mist with Winter at his side. The Wolf Lord's cloak whirled and flapped about him as he made his way through the crowd. He stopped beside their wagon.

"Do you have everything you need?" he asked Joseph.

"Aye, we're all set," the black man replied.

"And you know the way? Willam drew up a map in case you forgot."

Joseph waved him off. "I remember just fine. Quit worrying, Otto, I know what I'm doing."

The Wolf Lord ignored the jest. "I don't like this fog. I can't see more than a few feet in front of me. Watch the wolves closely, Joseph. They'll be able to smell predators from miles away. Send outriders to scout ahead and make sure you keep a few behind the caravan. Turn around immediately if you see anything larger than a bear. I don't want you taking any risks with so many lives at stake."

Joseph rolled his eyes. "When have I ever taken unnecessary risks? Otto, we'll be _fine._ "

The Wolf Lord nodded but he seemed to have a hard time convincing himself. He scanned the caravan impatiently, frowning with concern. "Maybe I should double your escort," he muttered to himself.

" _Otto_."

"Yes, yes, just make sure to send a messenger once you've reached the hill," Otto sighed. "Farewell, old friend."

"Farewell _brother_ ," Joseph corrected him, clasping the Wolf Lord's hand. The two men smiled at each other but there was a hint of sadness in both their eyes.

Otto nodded at Daven. "Safe journeys, Daven. Remember, I'm counting on you."

"I w-won't let you down," he replied miserably.

The Wolf Lord smiled at them sadly and turned back to join the crowd. Winter barked at them before rejoining his master. _It's happening,_ Daven thought. _We're leaving_. He almost didn't believe that it was finally happening. He tried to convince himself that this was all a bad dream, that he would wake up at any moment, but then the wagon lurched forward and they were slowly rolling toward the northern gate. Daven scanned the Den desperately, trying to drink everything in one last time. He saw Maron waving from his forge, he saw the vague outline of the castle and the watchtowers along the walls, he saw Clarisse peeking out from the stables, and he saw all the survivors calling farewells from the crowd. Daven saw Alys waving to him and he managed to return the gesture half-heartedly. He turned around and hunched over, blinking back tears. It was too painful to look at her any further. He scrunched his eyes shut and kept them firmly closed until the northern gate groaned shut behind them.

The journey was eerily silent after they left the safety of the Den. The fog seemed to blanket all the sounds around them, muffling the voices of the survivors chatting in the wagon just a few feet behind his own. The strange half-silence was occasionally punctuated by the snorts and bellows of the wooly rhino pulling his wagon, and the clopping hooves of the elk that encircled the caravan. Daven remained tense for the first few hours, flinching at every sound that echoed through the mist. Eventually he grew tired and slept with his head against the back of his seat and patches curled up in his lap.

The fog had receded by the time Daven woke up from his slumber but he still couldn't see very far. Daven was alarmed to discover that half their escort had disappeared but the rangers came galloping back a few minutes later to report that the caravan was approaching the Lookout Hill. Joseph thanked the two men and sent them forward again to screen for predators.

"This place is full of dangerous wildlife," Joseph explained to Daven as he kept his eyes on the distance. "I've had a few unpleasant encounters with sabercats back in the day."

"S-s-sabercats?" Daven stuttered. He wasn't a hunter or a ranger; he preferred to avoid the predators that roamed the north altogether. Daven always took jobs that involved gathering lumber from the forest or stone from the quarry. He was perfectly content working near the safety of the walls

"Aye, saber-toothed tigers. They're larger than direwolves and they blend right into the rocks. They'll tear a man to shreds within seconds."

"That s-sounds horrible," Daven shuddered.

"That's not the worst of it either," Joseph went on. "The Lookout Hill is right next to the mountains. There's all sorts of nasty creatures up there: argentavis, direbears, boars, hyenas, the list just goes on. I'm going to post two sentries to stand on the tall hill and watch for wildlife all times."

"T-two, Joseph? Shouldn't you save more to guard the base?"

"Well, one man would normally be enough but I don't want to take any risks. If I send two sentries up there, they can watch each other as well. Poke the other man if he falls asleep."

Daven found himself chuckling despite himself. He was suddenly glad that Joseph was there with him. He would give anything in the world to have Alys by his side but at least he still had one friend to cheer him up.

Joseph grinned at him. "If you want to be a good commander, you've got to think like your men. For instance, take those fellows back there."

Daven craned his neck around to look at the wagon behind them. The driver was fast asleep and his companion was staring off into the distance, too caught up in his daydreams to notice his friend was dozing.

"Hey Skyler!" Joseph hollered without looking back. "Did you enjoy your beauty sleep?" The driver suddenly bolted awake to the laughter of the survivors in the back of his wagon. He flushed pink with embarrassment.

"See," Joseph said, tapping his head. "Think like the men."

The caravan rolled forward steadily as the midday sun climbed higher into the sky. The journey was peaceful since all the nearest creatures gave the armed survivors a wide berth. They arrived at the Lookout Hill on good time, with hours of daylight to spare. The fog had completely cleared away by then and Daven could see the base from far away.

Though the tall hill gave the camp its namesake, the human base was actually located on its shorter neighbour. The squat second hill was more heavily fortified and offered greater protection from the elements. It was walled by sturdy grey stones and encircled by a ring of tall fire-hardened stakes. A short ditch had been entrenched in front of the barrier, the bottom lined with jagged rocks and sharpened stakes. It took the caravan an hour to enter, for a segment of the wall had to be torn down to get all their animals through. Joseph had helped build the place up and he knew exactly where to go. The survivors dumped all their supplies into the courtyard and immediately began fixing the fortifications that had fallen out of repair. Joseph sent hunting parties into the tundra to restock their half-empty larder and he sent a pair of sentries to the taller hill.

Joseph moved around the base easily, shouting commands and suggestions at everyone he came across. Daven tried to do the same, for he was supposed to be second-in-command. He lost his nerves the first few times and backed away before he embarrassed himself, but realized that most of the survivors were less experienced than him. A few of the new arrivals had no idea how to sharpen stakes or entrench the barricades. He approached them timidly to offer advice, only lone survivors at first but he gradually built up enough confidence to confront the larger teams of workers. Daven even had to demonstrate how to do certain tasks himself, since some of the new survivors seemed completely clueless. He was covered in dust and sweat by the end of the day but there was a certain satisfaction to helping others adapt to the Island. Daven had gotten to know some of their names as he worked alongside them, and he was feeling much better by the time they all gathered around a bonfire to celebrate the first day.

 _Maybe this isn't so bad after all,_ Daven thought to himself as he scratched Patches behind the ear. He still missed Alys dearly but Willam had been right; the world wasn't so bleak after all. Daven only had to keep fighting to see that for himself.

* * *

 **Author's Note: This chapter was perhaps the most autobiographical of the bunch. If anything, it was therapeutic to write this one and I enjoyed it. I'm going to keep the real-life details to myself but I know what it feels like to lose someone you deeply care about. There was no Willam around in my life to tell me all those words I needed to hear; my best friend, the person I could always depend on, abandoned me and even though I hate her for it, I still miss her with all my heart. That was months ago and I've finally accepted that she's gone. But that being said, the message of this chapter is one of perseverance. Just keep going and things will get better eventually. If anybody ever needs someone to talk to, please feel free to PM me.**

 **soumilplays03, thanks, I hope you enjoyed the chapter!**

 **The Dweeb 4252, thanks! Unfortunately you won't get to meet every single new tribe member, but I'll try to introduce at least a few new survivors.**

 **GuardianReaper92, thanks for the support! I hope you enjoyed the chapter.**

 **TheRagingNebula, I'm glad that you like Maron! We didn't see much of him this chapter but he'll show up again soon!**

 **J.S.F. Northern Command, I'll leave their stories to the reader's imagination but they weren't particularly interesting so I chose to omit them. Thanks for the feedback about the graveyard! I was actually inspired by someone's suggestion around a year ago. . . can't remember it very much sorry lol**

 **King Endercreeper, thanks! I'll be sure to keep pumping out chapters whenever I get the chance. You are right to assume that the narrative will shift but we won't see many other tribes for a while. First I gotta build this one up. Also thanks for the kind comment about the food lol.**

 **Thanks for taking the time to check out my first fanfiction, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I will try my best to upload as regularly as possible. Feel free to comment, ask question or criticize my story, review is always welcome. And i** **f you like what you saw, make sure to check out the other ARK: Survival Evolved fanfictions out there. Have a great rest of your day or night.**

 **-DaRumpyBurr**


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